#like yes okay he's no longer Orange Batman

[forevercloudnine]

Catman compilation for @jovialjuggernaut-draws​

[fantastic-nonsense]

do you have any dick and damian fic recs?

Do I ever (the answer is yes: so many, lmao; I spent a solid week reading nothing but Dick & Damian fics once).

Here are some of the highlights:

3:16, by partingxshot: The knife pushes thin along Dick’s carotid artery, cupping the indent between neck and jawline—forcing him to angle his chin. The metal is warm, pulled with execution speed from under Damian’s pillow. “Okay,” Dick says quietly, tracking the intricacies of his own heartbeat—counting the space between breaths. “Guess I did need a shave.” With faltering steps, Dick and Damian become Batman and Robin.

as love carries its strength, but not its labels, by AlterHarpia: Bruce is on a trip beyond Earth’s Solar System for longer than he intended, making Dick and Damian fall into an old pattern. “I'm not Batman.” A mere reminder, perhaps, but when said to Damian it always sounds like an apology.

Bleeding Needs of Acceptance, by MashpotatoeQueen5: Damian shows up in the dead of night at Gotham City with swords on his back and a chip in his shoulder, ten years old with blood on his hands and a scowl so fierce that grown men have been known to turn away from it.

He’s on the run, but at the same time not, and he’s not sure what he’s doing but he knows what he’s expecting, because he’s there to see his Father and his Father was surely just like the stories his Mother used to tell; tall and strong and brave, a shadow in the night, the call of vengeance in the streets, a detective in his mind and a warrior in his soul, an experienced and incredible fighter who was and is everything that Damian should ever try to be.

Batman is all these things. Father is all these things. And yet, somehow, he still doesn’t quite match Damian’s expectations.

Nobody does.

AKA: That one fic with the focus on the fact that Damian was trained to be a killer ninja in probably not so good conditions, and that a sudden transition to the crazy Batfam and- more importantly- Dick Grayson, probably wasn't the easiest to deal with.

Mountains High, Valleys Low, by partingxshot: Damian’s heart stutters. The body is Grayson’s, slumped to the ground against the cliff face. Snow piles against Batman’s sprawled legs and sticks in clumps to the dips of his cape. Then white breath rises from Grayson’s lips.

In their early days as Batman and Robin, Dick and Damian were interrogated by Ra’s al Ghul. Dick was drugged. Four years later, his memories of the incident are fuzzy. Now, Damian’s quit Robin and cut contact with the family. When Dick gets a coded note asking to meet, he doesn’t hesitate. The rendezvous isn’t what he expects, however—and Damian has a story to tell.

Oil and Watercolor, by dedicatedfollower467: The problem with soulmarks is when you give one much less vivid than you get. Damian knows that pain very well. A platonic soulmark AU where you leave colors on each other's skin the first time you touch.

Pop-tarts and orange juice, by Ididloveyou_once: ‘Do you ever wish that Father had actually died?’ ‘Never.’ And despite the vehemence with which Richard says the word, Damian thinks that he might be lying. But only because he hates himself for the truth.

Or: Bruce has been back from the dead for three months. Damian doesn’t know how to feel. He does know that he misses his da- Richard. They talk about it…sort of.

smeared with oil (like david's boy), by call_me_steve: Dick’s leaning over the edge of the couch, watching a tired Bruce stare lovingly down at the baby cradled in his arms. The baby’s swaddled in soft green blankets, probably procured by Alfred at some point or another. It’s hard to believe that this is actually Damian- Damian, and his big, bright, brown eyes; his soft, baby hair; his pudgy cheeks and small fingers. Clear of a snarl and frown and, instead, reduced to soft babbles and the occasional giggle. In his chest, Dick’s heart flutters. He feels his breath stop for all of a moment- God, this kid already has him wrapped around his finger.

“Can I hold him?”

Or: Damian gets de-aged.

This Too Shall Pass, by DarthPeezy: “You were made for greater things,” Mother says gently. “The greatest thing I was made for was to make my own choices,” he hisses, refusing to let Mother control him. “This is what I choose day in and day out. I neither seek nor need your approval. I moved on from you long ago.”

Or, you can take the boy out of the assassin’s household, but you can’t separate the fucked-up kid from the assassin. Especially one raised as an object, a thing to be owned, a vessel for his Grandfather’s mad plans.

Damian, going from an object to be owned to a person who is loved.

The R Stands for –, by Cirth: Damian pretends to focus on lacing up his boots as his father tugs Drake to his side, plants a gruff, casual kiss in his hair. Drake's lips curl into a pleased smile, and Damian yanks the strings so hard his palms burn.

Unauthorized Understudy, by FidotheFinch: Damian clenched his teeth. “You think wearing a Deluxe Batman costume from Gotham Express makes you the Batman?”

The man grinned. It was nothing like Grayon’s—or his father’s, had he ever grinned in the cowl. It was malicious. “No, but you will.”

He pulled something from underneath his suit, obscured by the cape until he had a hand on Damian’s shoulder, pinning him to the wall. Damian’s eyes widened when he recognized the red loop of fabric for what it was: a collar.

(This one's dark, folks, so fair warning)

With a Heart of Scars, by DawnsEternalLight: When Bruce dies there’s a lot of pieces to pick up. Dick has to step into the role of Batman, and try to hold his family together. Meanwhile, fresh from the League, and unsure of his place anymore Damian’s not even sure what a real family looks like. Together the two, and the rest of Bruce’s children slowly take steps to learn what healing is. While they do so, a dark new villain is taking steps to make themselves known in Gotham. Basically, I take Dick and Damian’s time as Batman and Robin and change absolutely everything.

----

Crossovers:

Innocence and Experience, by redgrass-and-silvertrees: What starts as a normal patrol ends up shaking up the world of Young Justice when a future Robin appears. The Team struggles to deal with Damian and the future he represents, all the while trying to send him home. [Comic canon/YJ]

Multiversal Constant, by Echoes_01: Damian and Jon have just defeated the living planet Yggardis and the wizard Kraklow royally messed up when he tried to send them home. Now the boys are stuck in a world where they don't seem to exist and that thirteen-year-old calling himself Robin can not possibly be Grayson... Who are these heroes that seem so familiar but are very different from the people they know? How will the boys get home when they don't even know where they are? [Comic Canon-Super Sons/YJ]

Throughout Infinity, by flumen: Damian Wayne did not anticipate going into the mission that he'd find himself in an alternate universe where his father is still Batman and there's an eerily similar (but thirteen year old) version of his partner/mentor/guardian/brother? Who has somehow managed to find himself another pack of incompetent superhero associates just as intensely irritating as the ones Damian's familiar with and borderline suspects him of being an illegal Cadmus clone but...well...

...sometimes life just plays out like that. And he'll be damned if he doesn't find a way home to his actual partner before he manages to impale himself on his own cowl or something equally ridiculous. Honestly. [Comic canon/YJ] ------

There's also a couple of other fics that have Dick and Damian bits but aren't Dick-Damian focused pieces on my DC fic recs list, which you can find here. Hope you enjoy!

[snothing]

Request: Drabble in which Jake looks through some old stuff and finds a rather odd yet captivating item: a red tunic with a green scaly leotard, a black-yellow on its right side, a black domino mask, green gloves and finally green pixie boots. he decides to try the suit on

I want to apologize for how long this took! I’ve been so busy with school, and I made this way longer and convoluted than necessary. It’s definitely not a drabble anymore, and I added a lot of sibling banter, lol, I can’t resist. This was so much fun to make, I had so many ideas. Thank you so much for being patient, and I hope you enjoy! 

I decided to deviate from my universe, while keeping some old things. Mar’i and Jake are still twins, and Mar’i can turn invisible.

"Go away, Jaki! This is my hiding spot!" Mar'i whispered-hissed at her brother. She glared at him through a jungle of coats and umbrellas in the armoire, her mouth in a tight frown.

"Oh, come on, Mar'i!" Jake cried. With a flair for the dramatic, he threw his hands up in the air. Of course, his annoying sister would take his favorite, top-secret hiding spot!

"Shhh!" she snapped, finger to her lips. Pink eyes flashed brightly at him. "Would you be quiet? Do you want Dad to find us?"

He pursed his lips and looked down the hall. Pretty soon, his dad would be done counting and be searching for them. Still, a great wrong had been committed in the eyes of Jake. "You took my hiding spot! Get out!" he seethed, just a decibel lower.

"Nuh-uh, it's not your hiding spot!" Mar'i shot back. "You don't own it!"

Jake smirked cockily and pointed a finger past her. "Uh, yeah, Mar'i, I do." 

A deep, unamused frown settled on Mar'i's face as she noticed— in bright cerulean blue crayon— the word "Jake" hastily scribbled on the panel. "That means nothing! You don't own everything you put your name on."

He silently raged. "How am I not surprised a heathen like you-"

"-Heathen?! I watched you squirt an entire can of Easy Cheese in your mouth!"

"That was a long time ago. I’m a different man now."

"It was last week!"

"As I said, a long time ago," he retorted drolly. "Anyway, as I was saying— only heathens don't respect the sacred rules of hide-and-seek!"

"You're so ridiculous," she sighed, exhausted. "You act like I broke the law."

"Well, you might as well have. I'm hurt, Mar'i, really I am. I never thought you'd betray me like this. My own flesh and blood— my wombmate--"

"Ew, don't call me that!"

He clasped his hands together. "I think the only way to solve this and mend our broken relationship is for you to leave and find a new hiding spot."

Mar'i stared blankly at him. Jake was her favorite person in the entire universe, but there were times where she wanted to slap him. "I'm not leaving, Jaki."

"By the love of X'hal, you can turn invisible!" he argued.

"So? Dad's using heat-sensing goggles this time."

"Mar'i!"

"Hey, babe," their father's voice filtered in from downstairs. They stilled, eyes wide and locked on each other. 

"Hello, my love. Are you looking for something?" they heard their mother ask him. 

"Oh you know, just for two half-human, half-alien eight-year-olds? Have you seen them? They're like yay-high, black hair with orange skin? Got glowing green eyes?"

"Oh," Kory chuckled. "I think I know the two. Say, are they dangerous?"

"Very. The little rascals will eat all your cereal and blame it on an innocent larva."

"My, they sound like quite the dastardly duo," she mused. "I believe I saw them go upstairs. Please, proceed with caution."

Dick let out a laugh. "Don't worry, babe. I think I'm well-equipped to handle them; Batman raised me after all."

Mar'i snapped back her attention to Jake, panicked. "Go away, Jaki!" she nearly growled. 

"But-" he tried to argue, but her hand shot out and closed the armoire door, effectively ending their discussion. 

Frantic, Jake looked around for a new hiding spot. Under his bed? No, there was a monster. Behind the house plants? Nope, too obvious. In the air vent? Nah, he'd get stuck again. Finally, his eyes found the inconspicuous attic door. 

He was like 90% sure it was haunted. Uncle Jay showed him and Mar'i a horror movie once, and he learned that attics were prime real estate for ghosts and couldn't be trusted. 

But...

It would probably be a great hiding spot. His dad wouldn't expect it. 

The creaking of the stairs interrupted his thoughts and effectively ended his inner turmoil. He dashed to the attic door and braved the darkroom. 

"Oh wow," he said, looking around. The room was cramped, littered with boxes and other knickknacks. Moonlight filtered in through the port window. "Okay, ghosts, listen. I don't mean to trespass or anything. I just need a place to hide from my dad, alright? So no possessing me, okay? I'll only be here for a couple of minutes."

Slowly, he made his way through the clutter, hoping to find a nice nook to squeeze in. A thick layer of dust coated everything in the room, and it was not long before he started hacking. It was then that his left foot hit a meddlesome snag in the carpet, causing him to plummet down on a pile of boxes. 

He let out a rather undignified squeak when his knee slammed into the ground. A flurry of Tamaranean curse words left his mouth; thank heavens, his mom was not around to hear him. "Stupid ghosts!" Jake spat. The crash was loud. His dad knew where he was now. "And stupid Mar'i for making me hide in this stupid, haunted attic!"

He went to glare at the confounding boxes, but he halted when he saw something interesting. His ire vanished, his head cocked slightly. He pulled himself up from the ground and went to analyze the contents of the fallen box closer, his hand alit with a low-energy starbolt.

Inside the unsuspecting box was a brightly colored uniform. Jake's eyes widened the size of saucers. Could this be? There was no way. But sure enough, he found the iconic scaly leotard and black domino mask. Yep, this was his father's old Robin uniform. 

He stared at the red tunic with the utmost reverence; his thumb traced the R. Jake was so absorbed in the costume he failed to notice his sister hovering over him. 

"Whatcha got there, Jaki?" she asked curiously, face inches from his.

He let out a squeal and jumped several feet in the air. He snarled, eyes ablaze in a blue fury. "Mar'i! Don't do that!"

She snickered, an eyebrow raised. "It's not my fault you're not observant."

"I was in stealth mode," he said defensively. He crossed his arms. "What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be hiding in my hiding spot?"

She shrugged. "Dad found me pretty quick, so I decided to come to bother you."

Jake was surprised. "Wait, do you mean he didn't hear me fall?"

"Nah, I told him you were being a cheater and hiding outside. Thankfully, you decided to be a klutz after he left," she informed him. She frowned when she noticed the betrayed look on his face. "What? I thought you'd be happy I saved you!"

"I think it's funny you pick and choose when to be a loyal sister."

She smiled. "Gotta keep you on your toes, Jaki. Now, what's that?"

Jake followed her pointed look at the costume. He showed her excitedly. "I think it's Dad's old Robin costume!"

Green eyes rounded. "What? No way!"

"Yes, way!" he dazzled. "Look at the insignia!"

"Whoa," she breathed. She fingered the black-yellow cape gingerly. Her head snapped up. "Come on, put it on!"

"W-what?" He gave her a bemused look. 

"I know you want to," she said wryly. She held up the tunic and pushed it towards her brother. "I bet you'd look just like dad."

"Yeah, but..." he trailed off. Honestly, he did not need much convincing. Jake had seen pictures of his dad in his early crimefighting days, but a thought stopped him. "I don't know, Mar'i..."

"Why not?"

"Well, Damian's Robin."

"And?"

"And I don't want to-- I don't know. I guess I don't want to send the wrong message," Jake answered. He sighed somberly. "Besides, it's not like I could ever be Robin anyway. I'm weird."

"What the heck?" Mar'i spluttered. "You think you can't be Robin because you have powers?"

"Robins don't have powers, Mar'i," he said, dejected. "They don't fly or shoot starbolts."

She snorted. She scooted closer to her twin, looking at him intently. "And? Anyone with a brave heart can be Robin, and as I can see, you have one."

"But-"

"No buts, Jaki," she cut him off. Mar'i was not going to allow her brother to put himself down. "I like you just the way you are. I think shooting starbolts and flying is super neat!"

"You're biased," he chuckled. Mar'i's words instantly made him feel better, though. 

Her mouth blossomed into a silly grin. "Well, yeah, duh. I know if I'm awesome, you have to be. Now, put it on!"

"Okay, but turn around. I need privacy!"

"Yay!" she piped before spinning around. Her arms and legs tingled with excitement.  

"Okay, I think I'm ready now," he told her, a bit apprehensive.

Mar'i whipped around, nearly knocking Jake down in the process. She almost burst out in awe when she saw him there, proudly donning their father's uniform. "Wow, Jaki! It looks so good on you!"

He flushed. His eyes, now concealed by a domino mask, peeked down at his body. It had been a bit awkward in some places; Jake did not care for his legs being so exposed, but otherwise, it fit like a glove. "Really?" he asked, swooshing his cape back and forth.

Her head bobbed up and down. "You look just like Dad when he was young!"

"What do you mean by that, Mar'i? I'm still young!" 

Jake and Mar'i were startled by the voice. They spun around in the direction of the attic door and spotted their dad: the first-ever Boy Wonder and best pancake-maker-this-side-of-the-galaxy-- Dick Grayson. 

"Dad!" the siblings exclaimed in perfect unison. 

Dick chuckled. "And what are you two glowsticks doing in the attic? I thought we were playing hide and-"

He stopped mid-sentence when he noticed Jake. His eyes widened as they absorbed, his mouth agape.

Jake panicked, and shame surged through him. "I'm sorry, Dad!" he said hastily. "I-I was just hiding upstairs a-and I fell a-and I found your old costume!"

"Jake-"

"A-and I knew I shouldn't have, b-but Mar'i said I should-"

Jake paused when he felt his father's hand on his shoulders. He looked up and met his father's loving gaze. "Jake, calm down," Dick comforted. "It's okay."

Jake swallowed. "You're not mad?"

"No, of course not, son," he responded, genuine. 

"Doesn't he look cool, Dad?" Mar'i piped up, a goofy grin on her face. 

Dick smiled tenderly and moved his hand to caress Jake's face. He could not have predicted what seeing his son wear his old Robin uniform would do to him. His heart soared with love and pride. 

"Yes, Mar'i, he looks pretty cool," he agreed. 

Jake beamed and matched his sister's goofy grin. He thought his dad would be mad at him, but thankfully, he was the furthest from mad. 

"But don't think this means you can go out crimefighting," Dick added quickly.

"Aww, Dad!" Jake whined.

Dick wagged his finger at him. "Don't 'aww, Dad' me! You may have the look, but you're not old enough."

Jake pouted. "I'm not a baby anymore, Dad!"

"Aww, but you're still my baby.” He gave Jake a quick kiss to the temple. “Now, come on, you two. Mom made dinner, and I can’t wait to see the look on her face when she sees you."

"Did she burn the food again?" Mar'i grimaced. She loved her mother dearly, but she was not the most adept in the kitchen.

"Yeah, I don't know if I can eat burnt lasagna again, Dad."

"Now, now, glowsticks. Mom spent all day working on this meal!" Dick assured them. He escorted them out of the attic. "It's a dish from Tamaran. I'm sure it'll be wonderful."

Mar'i whispered to her brother, "I like when Mom cooks. We always get McDonald's afterward."

"Or food poisoning."

[autisticcassandracain]

Braids and Cuts

Fandom/Characters: Batman Comics, Cassandra Cain & Duke Thomas

Wordcount: 1475

Summary: Cass convinces Duke to cut his hair with her, and suggests getting braids. Duke has mixed feelings. The last person who'd done his braids was his mom.

Notes: Written for @duketectivecomics’s Duke Week Day 6: Family Bonding! I tried my best to do my research to be respectful and realistic, but I’m white, so if I got anything wrong regarding natural hair, please let me know! You can read this on AO3 here!

///

The Wayne Manor bathroom closest to their bedrooms - because there was more than one, he’d never get used to this mansion no matter how long he spent in it - was still larger than Duke’s old bedroom, which made it easily large enough to drag a truly gigantic standing mirror in there, so they’d be able to see the back of their heads without the hassle of a handheld mirror. Duke laid their guards out while Cass stood in front of it.

“Who’s first?” Cass asked, angling her head so she could see both her sides.

“You, ‘cause mine’ll probably take longer.” Plus, he hadn’t entirely decided whether he’d go through with it. It’d taken quite a while for his hair to grow back this long, and even cutting half of it off was... daunting, to say the least.

When you can’t jump off rooftops, just cut your own hair, you’ll get about the same adrenaline rush.

“I want just one side shaved,” Cass reminded him while she sat back in the chair.

Duke pulled out a clipper and rolled his eyes. “I know, you’ve only said it about three hundred times, but thanks for the reminder.”

“You’re welcome.”

“So, lowest guard?”

The mirror reflected Cass’s huge grin. “Yup.”

It was easier than Duke had expected it to be, but then again, Cass’s hair was straight as a board. The scissors went in almost as easy as the clippers, and before he knew it, half her head was gone and shaved.

And yeah, it actually did look pretty damn good.

Admittedly, Duke had been skeptical when Cass’d first suggested getting dual haircuts. Not just because he’d never done his own hair, but because Cass’s fashion sense was... questionable. Sure, she had strong opinion on how she should look, which was something. It was just unfortunate that none of her opinions were any good. She’d been known to combine every colour in the visible light spectrum in the same outfit, socks with crocs, and just straight up rip off pieces of her clothes if she didn’t like how it looked. Sometimes it worked. Most of the time, it really didn’t.

But she’d come prepared with a photo album of approximately a thousand different tapered cuts, saved sides, and every braid, loc, and twist combo with those you could imagine, and, well. When Duke’d first started growing out his hair again, he’d hoped it would lead to him finally learning how to be creative with it, like his mom was. In practice, he’d done absolutely nothing, except narrowly keeping it alive. Maybe it was time for a chop.

“You sure you don’t want me to do the other side?” Duke asked, fully expecting a no.

Instead, Cass paused, looking in the mirror, angling her head this way and that. Then, she grabbed the clippers from his hand, and raked it through her hair.

“Cass!”

“I’m doing a buzzcut.”

“I thought you said you wanted one side? You were pretty adamant about it!”

“Changed my mind.”

“Why?”

“Queer reasons.”

Duke rubbed his nose. “Sure, okay, whatever makes you happy. But can I at least finish it?”

Cass paused, cocked her head a little, then handed him the clippers.

“Thanks. And I hope you’re not expecting me to cut everything off.”

“Nope.”

“Good, because I spent way too long growing it for that.” And with that, he started shaving the rest of her head.

Around the time he was busy trying not to cut her ear off (easy, with the guard, but still), Cass said, “You should get yellow yarn braids.”

Duke threw her an incredulous look through the mirror. “You’re either wildly underestimating how long yarn braids take, or my patience.”

“You like them,” Cass insisted.

Which, yes, she wasn’t wrong, but, “How could you possibly know that?”

“You kept coming back to them. In the style collection.”

And, yeah, he had. Sure, getting yellow yarn braids was about as ironic as writing ‘I AM THE SIGNAL’ on the side of his head, but it was just such a cool look. He could save both sides of his head and keep them long, or shave only one and make them shorter, and both would be amazing.

“I’m not getting them,” he said. He shut the clipper off. “There, how do you like that?”

The only thing left on Cass’s head were tiny, prickly hairs, that she immediately went to rub her hand across. She stood up and twirled a bit in the mirrors, wearing a huge grin. “Love it.”

“Glad to hear that.” He gave her the clippers. “Go wash that, I should probably section my hair first.” She gave him a thumbs up and moved towards the sink.

They worked in silence for a little while, Duke carefully separating his hair with a comb and moisturizing it, while Cass washed and dried the clippers. The sound of running water would’ve been soothing if Duke wasn’t running high on nerves.

“Can I do it?” Cass asked.

“Cass, I love you, but I’d rather die than let you anywhere near my hair.” He gestured towards her hand. “Give me the clippers.”

And with a pout, she handed them over and hopped onto the washing machine to watch.

Well. No putting it off anymore.

He put the clippers to his head and went to work.

It wasn’t as difficult as he’d expected it to be. He slowly worked over his head, making sure to keep his eyes on the mirror, even as he could feel Cass staring at him.

“I could do the braids,” she offered, from atop the washing machine.

“What part of ‘I’d rather die than let you near my hair’ did you not get?” Duke answered, barely paying attention.

“You used to have braids.”

That made him pause his clipping. “How do you know?”

“Saw pictures at your house.”

“Ah.” He’d taken them down for a while, after he’d come out, but he’d taken a few  kid photos with him in foster care, after his parents... you know. It was comforting to hold onto these memories, and over time, it had stopped being strange or embarrassing to see himself look like a little girl. Even a bit nostalgic, in a weird way.

Which might be why he was considering bringing back the styles he’d worn before he’d come out. It made him remember the way his mom used to braid his hair. She was a fast braider, had to be, with box braids being her preferred style. She wore them for as long as she could get away with it, preferring natural looks for her own hair, but gladly braided his with as many beads and bright colours as he asked. He’d never actually been to a professional; braiding had been his and his mom’s little ritual, over the weekend, with Netflix or songs in the background. They’d only stopped when he’d come out and clipped his hair short.

“My mom used to do my braids,” he simply said, and Cass made an understanding noise.

“Don’t you want to learn?” she asked.

On the one hand, he did. He’d always wanted to learn, to be just as fast as his mom. On the other hand, he really, really didn’t. He just wanted his mom to do them for him, forever. Or at least for another few years, to make up for lost time.

Also, on a lighter note, he didn’t feel like sitting still for like, two days, while failing to do his first pair of braids, and really didn’t feel like doing it all alone.

He’d nearly reached the end of his haircut, detangling the last piece of hair to cut before going in for precision clips. It went swift, after that, and in the end, the haircut looked good. Full on the top, low on the sides and back. Mom had always had a full head of hair, but he felt like braids on this style would give it his own twist.

He’d like to show it to her. Maybe she’d even be present enough to appreciate it.

“I’ll do the yarn braids on one condition,” he announced, turning to Cass.

She peaked up. “What?”

“You stay with me the entire time while I do them, and you’re not allowed to get distracted on your phone.”

She grimaced. “You’re mean.”

“You’re the one that wants me to do the braids.”

“Only because it’d make you happy.”

“And because it’d look cool?”

“I’d prefer pink. And orange.”

“Of course you do, you lesbian. Do we have a deal?”

She wrinkled her nose, but said, “Deal.”

It took way longer than he (or Cass, who complained the whole time) would have liked, but two days later, he had yarn braids that ended mid-back, with electric yellow yarn.

He couldn’t be sure, but he thought his mom liked them.

[janicho88]

Picking up Strangers

Pairing-Dean x Reader

Word count- Exactly 1000

Warning- Possibly slight angst. Mentions of kidnapping, prison and armed robbery.

Summary- You take someone to your friend’s Halloween party.  How bad can it be?

This is my entry for @smol-and-grumpy’s Blogiversary-challenge.  Prompt is bolded-I should never have brought you with me. 

A/N-I had a different idea I was originally going to go with for this prompt.  Then thanks to a Tumblr ad and a conversation with Talesmaniac89 and Winchest09 this idea came up 

You were finishing getting yourself ready for your friends Halloween party when your phone rang.

“Hey Sweetheart, I’m all set here just wondered how much longer you were going to be?”

“Give me five minutes to finish here and I’ll be on my way to get you.”

“Okay, I’ll meet you out front.”

Grabbing your purse and keys you checked your Greek Goddess costume once more and headed out to pick up the man who called you.  Arriving downtown you spotted the spiky brown haired man you were looking for, wearing a bright orange jumpsuit with Kansas State Penitentiary on the back.  Against your better judgement you were bringing him to your friends party with you. 

Sliding into your car he leaned over and gave you a quick kiss.  “How have you been Sweetheart?  Miss me?  Ready to get out of here and introduce me to your friends?”

“Hello” looking him up and down your eyes finally connected with his green ones. “That’s what you are wearing tonight?”

“Yes, fresh out of the joint this is all I had.”

“Okay.”  You were silently wondering how bad this was going to go. 

Walking up to your friend's house, Tabby answered the door.  Greeting you with a hug, she turned to the handsome man next to you.  “Hello, I’m Y/N’s friend Tabby, I don’t believe we’ve met?

“Hi Darlin, I’m Y/N’s boyfriend, Dean.”

“Boyfriend?” She asks, throwing a questioning look at you. You started to answer, but Dean interrupted. 

“No, we haven’t had the pleasure to meet yet, I just got out.  There was an online singles dating ad.  Meet soon to be free, cute reformed convicts, he could be all yours!  She signed up, we were matched, now I’m all hers!  Been writing back and forth for at least 6 months, and oh that picture she sent helped me through a few nights.” 

 Leila, your other friend and member of your close group saw you three in the entryway and came over.  Tabby filled her in all about who Dean was, and every time you tried to explain he would interrupt you.

Your face was flushed with embarrassment, you couldn’t believe he was telling your friends these things. 

“Just got out today, and she picked me up from the bus stop, hope you don’t mind her bringing me along. I still have to get some new clothes”

“Why don’t you go set your stuff down Sweetheart, while I get to know your friends?”  Sending Dean a warning look you quickly took your purse to the bedroom not wanting to leave Dean with them for long.

“So Dean,” Leila started “what were you in for?”

“Kidnapping and armed robbery, nothing major.  Did my time, turned my life around and Y/N gives me hope for a better future.” 

Tabby and Leila exchanged glances with one another wondering what in the world you were thinking, picking up this just released from prison stranger.  

As the night went on Dean met others telling them the story of how you two met without an ounce of shame.  Occasionally he would throw in stories from the big house. They usually involved him in some kind of fight.  

Tabby and Leila took you aside later while Dean was grabbing food.

“Y/N, how well do you know him, are you sure he’s not dangerous?”  

Dean was quick to rejoin you “Food’s great, lot better than the cafeteria.  You even have pie.”

“Where are you staying Dean?”

“Brother’s got a place, kind of an old warehouse thing, he didn’t get caught.”

“Dean that’s enough.” you whispered angrily in his ear and walked to the bedroom where your things were.

“What’s enough Sweetheart?”

“I think we’ve had enough of the party, it’s time to go.” Looking through your purse for your car keys you were unable to find them.

Twisting your keys around his finger Dean turns to you.  “ I grabbed them out of your purse awhile ago.  You’re coming back to my place tonight right, Y/N?”

“Do I have another option?”

“Come on Sweetheart, no you don’t.”

Walking out you bid goodnight to your friends, and they told you to call them tomorrow.  After Dean’s stories they wanted to make sure you were still alive in the morning. 

He drove you back to his place, an underground bunker, not a lot being said on the way.  Getting out of the car you left the garage and headed for the library where you turned on Dean.

“I should never have brought you with me!  Now all my friends think I’ve gone crazy dating a newly released convict.”

“Relax Sweetheart, I’m a reformed man.  A few more get togethers and I’m sure they will love me.”

The yelling bought a tall man with shaggy hair running into the library.

Turning you glared at Dean, “Would you like to sleep alone tonight?” 

The newcomer was looking back and forth between the two of you, finally asking “Did the party not go well?”

“Sam, why in the world would you let him pick out that costume when you went to the store?  He spent the whole night telling my friends we met through a prison dating service for reformed convicts!”

Before Sam could answer Dean cut in “Her friends are worried she’s dating a psycho who’ll murder her in her sleep.”

“It’s going to be the other way around Winchester!”  You hollered back walking off toward your shared room.  You really should have let the girls keep thinking you were hopelessly single.  You couldn’t tell them Dean was a hunter, maybe you could convince them he was a want to be actor who really got into his costume.  It was going to be an interesting phone call in the morning.  

After you left the library Sam turned to Dean, “I thought I left you at the store with a Batman costume?” 

“Payback for hiding me from her friends for five years.”

“Something tells me you’re going to pay Dean.”

Tags- @talesmaniac89 @katehuntington @winchest09 @deanwanddamons @whatareyousearchingfordean @waywardbeanie @emoryhemsworth @anathewierdo @malfoysqueen14​ @superfanficnatural​ @sandlee44​ @akshi8278​  

[batarella]

The Bullet: A Sequel to the Commander - Part 6 (Jason Todd x Reader)

FUUUUCK THIS TOOK SO LONG AM SORRY BUT MAAAAN AM I PROUD OF THIS. YES THE FLOYD LAWTON I’M BASING ON IS WILL FUCKING SMITH

WORDS: 10333 WARNINGS: IMPRISONMENT, STARVATION, DEHYDRATION, TORTURE, FIREARMS

MASTERLIST

THE BULLET MASTERLIST

-----

“How do you plead?”

Soulless.

Mindless.

Lifeless.

She finally became that cold, callous machine. It took her this far just to get there.

It was just about as painless as your skin and nerve endings being burned off.

A soulless, mindless, lifeless muster of steel and hard parts.

To every pair of eyes that looked her way, she was no human being. She was no woman. She wasn’t someone who loved or was loved. She wasn’t someone’s cousin, or someone’s lover. And especially not someone who could have been a mother. Taking care of a child would be nothing short of abuse.

She wasn’t Y/N. She was Deadshot. An eerie mimic to her infamous uncle.

With the cuffs on her wrists, three guards on her side, unarmed in case she could possibly reach out for them, she heard the distant flickering of camera shots and murmurs. Her silence was already something to note, with the reporters eating up this story like worms on a cold carcass. But not once did she look up from her feet, at the steel clinging to her skin. Her attention didn’t leave the coarseness of the bright orange suit, sticking to her skin like sandpaper.

“Guilty.”

Her own trial. And she barely paid attention. She didn’t listen to just about anyone who went up to speak, at the lawyers, the judge, the jury with their whispers. She didn’t listen to their stories about her, whether or not they were true. And even if it were a lie, it wouldn’t matter much. It would only add up to the countless life sentences she’d expect to have in the end. It wouldn’t change anything about her situation. Waller was going to win, whatever happens.

For the murders of fifteen different people. Fifteen different cases. It was barely a fraction of what she’d done just by the past few months alone, not including the last one since she swore off killing. But they were the ones she chose to admit to. By herself. Her part of the deal with Waller.

A trial that was supposed to last the whole of the day, ended up being adjourned after barely an hour. Barely any witnesses, barely any proof to go against her. If she hadn’t admitted to anything, she wouldn’t have gotten more than one or two life sentences.

Now, she ended up with eight.

And after her eyelids shielded her away from more visions of the reality in front of her, she still managed to watch herself being taken away. With even more unarmed guards around her in a circle and two standing from a fair distance away, holding AKs and pistols strapped to their hips.

She saw herself being cuffed on her ankles, lead to an armored car like a circus animal. Reporters all around her, snapping pictures and holding out their microphones trying to get something out of her. And despite everything Waller had said, about her histories, her crimes, and all the horrible things she’s done, not everyone immediately went back to looking at her scornfully. At the far off crowd outside the courthouse, there were a group of girls, holding up a sign with hearts around her name. Her real name this time.

And they all cheered for her to be let go. They cried out to her, calling her a hero, calling her things she clearly wasn’t.

A cop pulled her head back to look in front of her, back crouched over, face covered with her hair. When she got to the car, she could no longer hear screams of neither hate nor support. She never felt so alone. So dead. Dead beneath her skin despite her heart still up in a beat. But it was clearly barely there. She was barely alive.

They took her to a plane. Then on another car. Then she arrived in Belle Reve.

Guards gave her looks. And she didn’t care to think about what went on in their clearly corrupted minds. She was taken to a brightly lit room, and despite it being so lit up, everything around her felt cold and dark. Her eyes, dropped down, she let the guard take her hand and press her inked fingers onto a piece of paper. Then they scanned her eyes, took her blood, took a piece of her hair.  

She was given a sign to hold, with her name on it and alias.

She stood in front of the wall with the height meter and faced the camera.

And on her face, she finally gave off a taste of the emotions running through the labyrinth in her mind. Her eyebrows arched down, her shoulders crouched over, her hair coming down to frame her face and her mouth arching down the most terrifying frown.

And her eyes. They looked black from the hooded darkness.

Anger. So much anger. For everything around her. For everything that had to happen.

They took the shot.

Just hours later, her mug shot had circulated all over Gotham, all over billboards and television screens, and almost everywhere on social media. Mixed criticisms. People wanting her to be let out. People praising her to be so brave. People saying she deserved what she got. People saying she should be put on death penalty.

Deadshot. Even when her name was everywhere. Even when the world had claimed her real name for their use. It wasn’t hers anymore.

She will, and always will be, Deadshot.

-----

Cops weren’t supposed to shove him into the back of a car like a dog being tied down and taken to the pound.

Cops weren’t supposed to throw his rights out the window out of fear over the woman who was supposedly above the law.

Cops weren’t supposed put their fear of losing their jobs in front of treating other people with basic human decency and have some sort of humanity left in them.

Cops weren’t supposed to use their job as an excuse to hurt other people. An excuse to let out their personal angers out on people who don’t deserve it.

But Jason Todd, a vigilante who had just been relieved out of god knows how many murder charges over the course of just two years, he shouldn’t expect the cops to be nice to him. As much as they were kind to Batman, as much as Commissioner Gordon was considered saint, there will always be a number of them that are just as bad as the criminals they detain.

They took him almost a hundred miles away from the city. Out into an unknown country side he had no idea where to go to. Not a motel, a gasoline station, or a diner in sight. He must have been in that car for four hours. He didn’t exactly know. Just that it was almost day time when they threw him out, his face meeting the dewy grass and the youthful orange sky. And the air around him felt nothing like the cold Gotham winds. It was fresh, light, healthy to take in. That’s when he realized just how far off he really was from home.

Jason was hungry, throat starting to feel a little dry. And his clothes will barely be enough to hold him up. He had two days. Maybe three days tops. By then he’ll have to make sure he’ll at least find a motel to stay in. He searched his pockets. His phone had fallen off. But he had his wallet.

He started walking to where the car came from. If they ran in circles to throw him off, he’ll probably die before he gets anywhere near the city by now. When the sun had fully risen, his skin now starting to feel the prickling of his sweat and the burn of the hot rays of light, he kept going. He kept pushing his legs forward, one in front of the other.

By sundown, he felt something in his stomach churn and eat him away from the inside. He shivered, despite the warmth. Then he decided to rest for just a few minutes to press back the tingling pain in his horribly dried up throat. He sat on the grass, weight on his hands, then he looked up at the sky, at the lack of clouds and immense brightness.

And he wasn’t upset about any of it. He wasn’t so worried about his life as he should be, dying of hunger, dying of thirst, feeling the heat burn his skin, or that he might never get home soon enough to actually live. He wasn’t so worried about what could happen to him in the cold dark or if he ever actually does find shelter, or help, or a single car that hadn’t passed by him so far.

He was sure he’d survive. He’d gone through worse. So much worse. And it was no different from being a child at crime alley not knowing if he was getting some food on his plate that day or not.

But it wasn’t even because of that why he wasn’t crying out in desperation and scavenging for any sort of help he could find.

He didn’t worry, because all he could ever think about was what could possibly be happening to Y/N in Belle Reve right that moment.

Jason never liked being in the unknown when it came to her, when she wasn’t by his side. When they were apart, as often as he could, he made sure to follow her around when she wasn’t expecting it, keep tabs on her almost every minute of the day, know where she was going and what she wanted to do. It had always been something in him to make sure the one person he loved more than anything else in the world was okay. Watch her from afar. Make sure she wasn’t hurt. That she wasn’t hurting herself. When she came back to him he swore he’d never lose her again. He swore to himself, and to her.

And now it was that all over again. And this time, he might never get to hold her for the rest of his life. This time, he might actually lose her for good. There was no way for him to follow her, to know what she was doing.

And it scared him to death. Scared him so much that it tore away every rational thinking in his head. That was most probably going to kill him. His lack of instinct. His lack of the will to keep going. When all he could think about was whether she was actually still alive and not have the bomb in her neck explo-

Jason pulled on his hair.

He already missed her so much…

He was in the middle of nowhere and he didn’t have so much as a picture of her to look at.

Wait.

His wallet.

He pulled it out.

An old photo of her. From her identification all the way back from the militia. From when she was recruited. He got her files and looked through them. Found her picture. Thought she was pretty. Had the files on his desk for months and after a while he ended up bringing it with him. Kept it in his wallet for two years and completely forgot about it. He thought he was a creep then, especially since they weren’t even so much as friends, but he remembered.

He got out his wallet and took it out from an enclosed pocket.

Hair kept back, cropped up to her collarbone and her face staring at him blankly. But her eyes still had that remnant of brightness and her mouth was so subtly curving up on one side.

Jason had his eyes on that little picture until he realized he had to keep going.

-----

Floyd’s old cell.

Waller and her sick little game.

She wasn’t placed with the other women in the prison with shared cells and barred gates. She was forced into the old cell of Floyd Lawton. Instead its walls of iron were three inches thick, solid, indestructible. There was but a little opening at eye’s length and another by the handle to bring in her food. It wasn’t as small as she thought it would be. But it smelled like five rats had died there this morning.

Deadshot took too long to get in and a baton swung against her back.

She fell to the floor and swore she heard her spine crack. For a moment her nerves stopped working, a buzzing numbness in slow surges, all except for the sharp pain at the base of her back.

“Get in there!” the guard screamed at her then kicked her further down. Crawling into the cell, she heard the gate slam shut and the whole room grow dim, save for a single orange light at the corner.

She didn’t do so much as stand up for a few hours. Her head was stuck to the ground, curled up to her stomach just to cling into some parts of her body that wasn’t already in pain. Everything in her hurt so much. There was a small cot at the corner and a punching bag at the other side. That had to be for Floyd. She didn’t want it. She hated that she wasn’t so much as given her own cell and had to settle for yet another of whatever scraps her uncle left behind. She got his guns. His suit. His fucking name. and now, she fucking laughed, she got his kills, his debt, his life sentences, his squad, his boss, his cell.

Everything she had. Everything she’s ever stood to live for. It had all been a remnant of who Floyd Lawton was. Never hers. She had no identity. Nothing good ever came out of anything he’s given her. Only a lifetime of running and money and taking lives. There had only ever been one good thing that came out of it.

And she had to lose him, too.

Deadshot had no idea if Jason was ever going to be okay. That he wasn’t going to eventually get himself killed without anyone holding him back. She couldn’t check on him anymore. She’ll have no idea if he even dies.

So she was just going to have to tell herself that he’ll be okay.

When the late afternoon came, she finally took to standing from the ground, on her knees, then she held herself up with the wall and hissed at how her bones cracked at the lack of movement. Everything hurt so much. She went to the cot, sat on its edge, and waited until the sun fell and rose again.

In the morning, the guards threw in a single burnt toast through the hole on the door. She didn’t touch it.

When the sun fell once more, she fell back against the wall and closed her eyes. She didn’t even get to sleep. No matter how much her eyelids started to hurt.

On the next day, they threw an apple into her cell. Deadshot took a bite, spat it out, then threw it out of the single window through the bars.

That night, she couldn’t bare not being able to sleep anymore. She tossed around in the cot, turning off all her other senses even when it only ended up amplifying the dead, yet raging thoughts.

She wanted a life. A good one. And finally it was within her grasps and it went away as quickly as it came. This wasn’t living. This was merely taking up space. This wasn’t a life anymore and it sucked when she knew there was nothing to look forward to.

Everything hurt to think about. Everything. Except when it often trailed off to Jason. Then her heart would swell, her wonderous thoughts halted. Thoughts of him. Thoughts of how he was. It was as calming as it was painful. And even if it stung, it brought back her humanity.

So she resorted to him. When the pain became too much. When her cell got too cold, or when the guards started to taunt her. When the cot got too uncomfortable or when her most silent screams haunted her at night.

She thought of him.

Is Jason okay? Is he eating? Is he even alive? Is he back in their apartment or out of Gotham or…

No. He wasn’t going to be okay.

Even if he was alive. Even if he was eating three times a day or if he was out of the state.

She knew. Because the moment she walked out of the apartment all those months ago, when she regrettably left the love of her life, she never stopped looking after him. He had no idea. He thought he was the one following her around. But out on patrols when Red Hood thought he was working alone, Deadshot was a few hundred yards away, looking out on her scope, watching and waiting for anything that might come out to take him down or anything he might not get to handle.

She never loved anyone like she loved him, and she often smiled at how they came to be, how it wasn’t supposed to be. No one would have thought it would work, but when it actually happened, it always made sense. To everyone.

Her Jason. Her sweet Jason.

She clutched at her chest.

She’ll have her thoughts of him to keep going. That somehow if she stayed alive, it was a step closer to getting to be with him again. A step closer than if she were dead.

And subjecting him to that kind of pain, when she knew he loved her, too, when he’s always made it clear, always made sure she knew he loved her.

Okay. Maybe it wasn’t too calming to think about him.

If anything, it only made the pain even worse.

------

Was that a house?

It looked like one.

It had a windmill, too.

And probably a barn.

Twenty-six hours of walking on the side of the road. Twenty-six hours of no food. No water. No shelter. Twenty-six hours, and only two cars have passed by him. Not one of them stopped.

Jason’s hair was sticking to his forehead now from the immense amount of sweat that had seeped out of his hairline, which was only going to lessen his days to live from three to just two or one. His throat. It was practically as course as the cement road.

But when he saw the house. A triangular roof. A windmill. A field right in front and what looked like a small barn by its side.

He only hoped it wasn’t a mirage.

Jason kept going, and his feet felt so much heavier to lug around like they were sacks of rice strapped to his knees. But he kept walking, further down until he started seeing the house’s porch that had a rocking chair inside it. He might have even seen a dog, running out of the house with its tail wagging and going back in through the doggy door.

Once he reached the front yard, he almost fell to his knees. The sun was scorching and he was probably going to come out of this with his skin almost burnt off of his flesh. If he ever does get out of this alive. But he could see from the screen door that there was someone inside. Human beings that might actually have the heart to help him. Jason swallowed what little fluids there was left in his desert of a mouth.

When he stepped into the porch, the dog came out once again, barking at him. It kept its stance outside the door and snarled whenever Jason tried to go anywhere near the front entrance.

“Who’s out there?!”

It was the voice of an old man. Not so old to be rickety and harsh, barely enough to be audible with his mouth probably struggling to keep up. He seemed to be up to his sixties. When he went up to the door, he stared at Jason through the screen.

“You need anything, boy?”

Jason tried to speak, but even that hurt to do. He tried to cough it out but it was like running his throat through a wrought iron bar.

“I’m… I need help…”

The old man stepped closer, peering in through the tiny holes of the netting. “You look like shit.”

“Can I… have some water?”

The dog stopped his barking, it started to take interest in his smell, on his shoes in particular. Its tail was up especially when his nose started smelling up his leg.

“How long have you been out here? The next city’s hours away by car.”

“A day. Probably. I’m not too sure.”

The old man unlocked the screen door and leaned against the archway. “You look like a dangerous man. You ain’t here to rob me, are ya?”

“No sir. Please. I just need some water.”

Jason saw his throat hitch, looking away out into the field for a short while before he eventually nodded. “Take a seat. Right there. I’ll get you a glass.”

The rocking chair. To him, it looked like the softest bed. He slumped down, tried so hard to keep his eyes open when all of him weighed a ton. He heaved his chest up in a slow, steady pace and made sure not to go into whatever light there might be that greets him.

Jason actually did take a bit of a nap when the door pushed open and he jolted in his seat. The man handed him a glass of cold water.

“Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.”

The dog was beside him once again. This time, it started to pant, like it was smiling at him with his tail wagging. He placed the glass between his lips and savored every single drop of water like it was liquified gold running down his throat. It hurt. All the way down his stomach. But he’s never had anything so refreshing.

“Can't walk back out there. You’ll die.”

“I have to. I can't stay here.”

“Plenty of bodies found at the side of the road with their stomachs inside out. I’m telling you, kid. You won't survive out there.”

With the glass empty, he pressed it onto his head just to cool himself off.

“Here. I’ll get you another glass.”

Jason didn’t want to ask for another but the man had already grabbed the glass away from him and went back inside. When he came out, he brought a sandwich with him as well.

“You’re very kind. Thank you.”

“I said don’t mention it. Folks out here getting lost. Some I offer to help and they end up taking an old family heirloom.”

“I’m sorry.”

“But when they aren’t pieces of shit, it’s nice to know I’ve saved a few lives.”

“Yeah,” Jason bit into the sandwich. “I know the feel.”

“I don’t have a spare bed. But you can stay over at the barn.”

“I really can't stay. Someone needs me.”

“Don’t be fuckin’ stupid. No car’s about to pass by and give you a ride and you’ll die before you’ll even get to Kentucky.”

“Kentucky?! Where am I?!”

The old man burst out a hearty laugh.

“Where you from, kid?”

“Gotham City.”

He whistled a hiss. “You're a long way from home, young man.” Jason took his time to drink up the water. Just so the man wouldn’t feel the need to get him another one.

“You're at the interstate going to Tennessee. From the looks of it, whoever dropped you off took you somewhere between here and Birmingham.”

Fuck. So the cops, if they were even cops at this point, didn’t drive for four hours. They were driving for twelve.

Fuck Waller and her men.

“I should be going.”

“Stay over at the barn. Every three days two buses pass along this road. One for each way. It’s either that, or the vultures will have you for breakfast. That’s more time than you probably have surviving out there by yourself.”

Jason stared at his half-eaten sandwich and his glass of water.

Yeah. Think rationally. He could at least do that for himself. The heat definitely was getting to him.

When he finished his food, he stayed on that chair until the sky went dark.

-----

The food was so disgusting, it was inhumane.

Two days. And all Deadshot had eaten was a stale piece of bread, two bites out of a rotten apple, half a bowl of chili, and a greasy patty. Her stomach was going to give out any second now. And the hot porridge of something they just threw in was definitely going to make her puke if she even had anything in her stomach right then.

Every part of her body numb, she went up to the punching bag.

One.

Two.

Three.

Her fists didn’t hurt as much as she thought it would. Even when her bones were basically made of jelly by now. She hit the bag, balled up her tight fists.

Six.

Seven.

Eight. Nine. Ten.

Floyd. Floyd. Floyd.

It had been a while since he spoke to her.

But every second in this cell, she’s heard Floyd’s name being whispered amongst the guards more than anything else there was. Referring to her. To what she was. Floyd’s second. Floyd’s niece. Floyd’s protégé. Floyd’s heir.

Twenty-six. Twenty-seven. Twenty-eight.

She wasn’t Y/N. None of them cared enough about her real identity. Not even the news stations cared enough to flash her real name on the screen for more than a few seconds before calling her Deadshot for the rest of their report. She can't call herself Y/N in a place where all people would look at her for was to compare her to her uncle.

She heard voices. Outside. Guards.

Lots of them.

“OPEN THE GATES!”

“EVERYBODY, LINE UP FOR EXTRACTION.”

“LET’S GO. MOVE. MOVE.”

Huh.

So that was today.

They all had to be armed. And ready to take her down.

She can put up a bit of a fight. For the fun of it.

She turned away from the bag, fists secured up to her head. She saw their faces incoming. A large shield held by the front liner and about ten viciously armed guards trailing behind.

“Come on, motherfuckers!” Deadshot said.

“GO. GO.”

The door slid open.

The shield pushed her to the ground before she could even do so much as move out of the way. She jumped up, twisted the arm that grabbed onto her and kneed him to the pelvis, stomped on his thighs.

Guns started aiming at her.

“Don’t you dare shoot that gun!” Their leader screamed at them.

Not long after, her arms were being held back, another one grabbing her legs. She flailed and kicked about.

“I can walk, you assholes!”

“Can't take the chance.”

A chair. A wheelchair that looked more like a torture machine than anything else. She thrashed about and screamed just as they placed her to sit on it, strapping her arms and head in place so she could barely move at all.

She calmed. She didn’t struggle. She didn’t even ask where she was going. She knew exactly where she was headed.

When they took her to an impossibly dark hallway where at the end, she saw soldiers without armor waiting for her with a suitcase, she swallowed.

“This gonna hurt?” she asked.

“You won't feel a thing…”

She breathed. Breathed. Breathed. Slowly as the chair went closer to the station, she tried so much to hide her neck, but couldn’t with the straps.

And when she saw the size of the needle gun, she jumped up in her seat.

“It’s been six fuckin’ years since Floyd, you didn’t think to have a little upgrade in your equipment?”

“Shut up.”

They pressed the gun to her neck and shot the nanite explosive right past her flesh and muscle.

It was like surviving a bullet and staying awake the whole time it went into her skin. She screamed out in so much pain. It was a bullet. It was a bullet. It was a fucking bullet. She was shot. No. She was dying. Bleeding. She pulled on all the straps.

“Let me go!”

“Take her back to the cell.”

Every hair on her body was sticking up. She swore she felt it bleed. There was something running down her neck. Onto her orange suit. The whole time she was taken to her place, she wouldn’t stop screaming and crying out for the help that was never to come.

They took her back in, undid the straps.

Then she fell to the ground.

“Calm down,” the guard said. “Everybody move out!”

Once again, she was alone. In an old, dusty prison cell that wasn’t even hers to begin with.

At least she thought she was.

“You shouldn’t be so scared of bullets…”

No.

The nerve of this man.

He just had to show up now.

“I have nothing to say to you.”

“You have no one else to talk to.”

“That doesn’t mean I need you.”

Floyd was sitting on the edge of her little bed, crouched over to his knees. “Get up,” he said.

Something within her, so used to doing exactly as he told her to, it wouldn’t let her say no. She shut her eyes closed and crawled over to a wall so she can pull herself up. Her hand went over to her neck, at the same mark Floyd had on his.

“Don’t touch it.”

She leaned against the wall, arms over her chest.

“Even when you were scared of bullets coming right at you, you were never afraid of guns.”

“I don’t want to talk about this.”

“You love guns. You love what you do. Don’t pretend I put you up to a life you never wanted.”

“This?!” she pointed up around the cell. “This wasn’t what I wanted. Not by a long shot.”

“But you knew there was a risk. You took it anyway. You put yourself in more danger than you can handle because you wanted to.”

No. He fucking wasn’t going to use that against her.

“I cleared your debts. I’m here because Waller wanted another Deadshot on the team. It’s because of you, I have a bomb in my neck. I always wanted to be a fucking great markswoman, but it doesn’t mean I wanted to be you.”

It would have probably stung him if he was here at all. But frankly, a figment of her imagination wouldn’t have its feelings hurt if she didn’t want it to.

Floyd let out a sigh and patted the side of the cot to let her sit beside him.

“Y/N…”

Only in her head. She finally hears her name after two days.

She rolled her eyes and took the damn seat.

“You know why you have that fear?”

Her attention never left the ground.

“You know how much you hurt people. All the way back from when you shot your first target. The more you killed, the more you realized how painful it was going to be when the world bites you back and gives you what you think you deserve…”

“It is what I deserve.”

“You think irony is what’s going to kill you.”

“Stop it.”

“But this is who you are. You have never been me. You have always been a different Deadshot. And I knew that. Always. Zoe could see it. Jason could see it-“

“Don’t. Say. His name.”

“This is you. And you're forgetting what you used to call yourself when you were little. When you weren’t so afraid of it taking your life. I never gave you a name because you’ve already named yourself-“

“FLOYD-“

“You are The Bullet. If you think irony wants you dead, bit it back in the ass. Become your fear.”

“AGH!”

She swung at her side, but Floyd was gone.

-----

A pile of hay was actually nice to lay down on.

The cow that was staring at him the whole time, though, was quite unnerving. The chickens as well. And they woke him up just as the sun began to rise, and Jason never would have thought he’d have to wake up to ten chickens and roosters screaming at his ear, as a well a dog with so much salivation licking up his face.

He relieved himself, scratched his head, splashed his face with a bucket of water. Already, he felt so much better.

When he walked out of the barn, Jason saw the old farmer stretching his arms at the porch. He turned over to him and waved. Jason waved back. then he saw him gesture for him to come over and reluctantly, he did.

“Got a good night’s rest?”

“I certainly did. I can't thank you enough.”

“Don’t thank me just yet. Come on. Let’s get some breakfast.”

“I really should-“

“Oh, young man, you shouldn’t feel like this is of any trouble. ‘Cuz you are going to get your breakfast yourself.”

He wasn’t so sure what that meant. “What?”

“Here’s a basket. Stay away from the chicken at the far back. She likes to peck out of your fingers.”

Oh. Well, shit.

“Okay,” Jason swallowed.

He went back into the barn and walked on over to the chicken coop. There were a few of the females in their cages laying eggs. And the roosters were just strutting about like they owned the place.

A certain one with a smooth head and red and yellow feathers started pecking at his feet. “You know, you remind me of a certain replacement back at home.”

The rooster clucked, then walked away into the hay piles.

“Okay, don’t kill me,” Jason kept his head away when he reached in and felt for eggs in the nest. It was still warm to touch. He took two and placed them on the basket. He did the same over the other ones until he reached the last one. The largest one.

But she had her own eggs inside and there wasn’t really much for both of them to eat. He closed one eye as he reached over…

“BUUUUUCK!” The chicken bit his hand and rapidly flapped her wings at Jason, then he instantly shut the cage door.

“Shit.”

He went back over to the house and knocked on the door. The farmer smiled at him as he took the basket.

“Come on. You can wait over at the table and I’ll fry these babies up.”

“I don’t mean to impos-“

“Eh, come on over.”

The old man had already turned around and went into the kitchen. His house was so small. There was only one couch. No TV. A lot of books. A dinner table that sat two.

He went over to the shelf.

It wasn’t so much the kind of books he read. Not the classics. They were all dime romance novels you’d find at a gas station store. And there were a lot of them.

“My wife left them behind,” the farmer said to him. “I read one everyday. Just to keep some kind of memory of her.”

He smiled. Because he didn’t say it like he was someone to pity over. He said it like it was something to be proud of. And it was.

“You read the paper, boy? It’s over there.”

He pointed at the newspaper on the table. “We got a delivery boy from the next house. I pay him a hefty price just to come all the way up here everyday.”

“They still have newspapers?”

The old man narrowed his boys. “Youngsters.”

He took the paper and sat on the table. Nothing much interested him. Mostly just news on a town in Tennessee.

But there was one, tiny section at the corner that caught his eye.

‘Dead Billionaire Falcone Found Penniless’

‘Gotham City’s billionaire philanthropist Carmine Falcone, after being murdered in his office underneath the Gotham Museum of Art, was discovered to have left nothing to his apparent heirs, as the title of all his assets, the museum included, had been secretly sold out and transferred ownership to various other enterprises from all across the world. This includes all the recently bought out conglomerates and properties from other businessmen of Gotham, such as Salvatore Maroni and ten others. These assets have since been liquidated just days prior to his death. But as they checked all of Mr. Falcone’s accounts, the numbers were as good as zeroes. It is unknown where the money had gone to and why the billionaire chose to do so. The Falcone Family insists on investigating the matter and getting the inheritance that their patriarch had left behind.’

 The old farmer then placed his plate of eggs on the table, as well as a few strips of bacon.

“Killed that boar just a few days ago. Pig’s been feeding me everyday since then,” he chuckled, then he took the seat beside Jason and ate up his food.

When Jason was washing the plates, the old farmer had fallen asleep on his couch. It was refreshing, seeing folks like this so trusting. It will kill him, one of these days. If he ever lets in the wrong kind of people. And looking around, he didn’t even look like he had a gun. If Jason had one with him, he’d give it to the old man just so he’d have some chance against the evils out there.

Jason sat out the porch, on the rocking chair. He watched as the field of wheat danced along the wind, as the grass fluttered with that beautiful, calming sound brushing against each other. Every so often, the wind strengthens, and it was with the bells hung on the door and the windvane that sounded so well with the leaves being blown away. It was so different from Gotham.

He pulled out the picture of Y/N and instantly, everything felt even lighter. And heavier. At the same time. Lighter because she brightens up everything there was, wherever he was. And heavier because she wasn’t actually here. And while he was this lucky to have found the help he needed, she, on the other hand, wasn’t.

He’s never had anyone sacrifice so much for him more than she did.

She loved him so much…

And the prison was all the way over to Louisiana. The opposite side of where he was going. After a night’s rest, he realized there wasn’t even anything waiting for him at Gotham. She wasn’t there. Everything he hated, on the other hand, was. There was nothing left for him. Nothing he could go back to.

“Pretty thing, she is.”

The old man was leaning against the wall behind him, looking over his shoulder at Y/N’s picture.

“Yeah… the prettiest.”

“Your girl?”

He nodded.

“She who you going back to in Gotham?”

“She… uh… isn’t there.”

“Where is she then?”

This man didn’t know anyone five miles outside his house. It probably wouldn’t matter. “She’s… in Belle Reve.”

“Oh,” He wheezed through the spaces in his gums. “Sorry to hear that.”

“I should have gone there with her.”

“Belle Reve, eh?” the farmer asked.

“Yeah.”

“Take the bus across the street. You’ll end up going back to where you came from but that bus’s going all the way over to Louisiana.

“There’s a bus going to the prison?”

“Aye. I suggest you go after her. You got better things to do back at home?”

He didn’t answer. He just stared at the fluttering wheat and the tall grass around it.

“I served my time. Four years. My wife visited me all the time. Made me feel appreciated. Like she never gave up on me. Doesn’t matter what I did or what I’ve done to deserve it.”

“What did you do?”

He laughed. “What didn’t I do? I was a bad kid. All the way up to my thirties. Everyone looked at me like I was some sort of rat. Especially my son. He left the minute he could walk and never came back.”

“I’m sorry…” he shook his head. “And I know how it feels. Being a troubled kid.”

“Then that woman of yours better look at you differently than everyone else, ‘cuz they be the only ones we hang on to. Makes us want to do better and prove them right.”

Yeah. Definitely.

That night, he slept on the rocking chair looking up at the stars. When he woke up, the farmer had placed a blanket over him.

-----

“AAAAAAGGGGHHHHH!”

“Get up from the damn floor, Lawton!”

“My name…” Deadshot spat at the floor. “…isn’t Lawton.”

“I don’t care. Get up.”

The taser was brought right back up against her spine. Daring her. Waiting for her to try to snap another neck. Then with both her arms held back, they started leading her out into the open field.

“Usually, we do this far away from the facility. But with Waller here, she wanted to see what you can do.”

“Ah. Tryouts. Do I get this fucking bomb off my neck if I fail?”

“No. It will detonate.”

“Fuck you.”

Out into the bright, glimmering sunshine, she squinted her eyes and shielded her face with her hair. But she could barely do so much as blink when there were five guards around her, armed this time. She could probably reach out into a man’s hip and grab a gun without them looking if she didn’t already know where she was headed.

Out on the bright, orange field. Clear of grass and littered with human shaped shooting targets. They were, however, laid out side by side, closely to each other. She would have thought they’d be further apart. And they all stood on top of a black, outstretched tire that went in a large circle.

Amanda Waller. One of her men held out an umbrella for her despite her being a few inches taller. There were even more armed men littered around. One more so than the rest. A pale-skinned man with a large AK over his chest, a bullet proof vest, military gear. Sunglasses that shielded his eyes.

Rick Flag.

“So you’re the new Deadshot,” Rick greeted her as they dragged her toward the range. “I see the resemblance.”

“She’s even more daring than Floyd,” Waller said to her. “I’d be careful.”

“Well, we might as well know now if she’s any better than her uncle.”

“I am.”

“Are you now?”

“That’s what she says,” Waller raised a brow at her.

“Unlock her.”

She waited for the guards to take out the cuffs. Smoothing out her wrists, she stretched out her arms.

“How would you know I won't shoot you?”

“I don’t. But I’m here to see if you're just a fraud or if you're at least half as good as your uncle. Now get to work.”

Her neck stretching over to the side, Deadshot went over to the table. A whole arsenal of weapons. AKs. Sniper rifles. Pistols. With all the magazines and ammo she needed. She walked on over and picked the pistol.

The daylight young, the people around her silent, everyone turned their watchful eyes on her, guns out, ready to pounce.

She pointed the AK-47 at the targets and fired.

At the ten targets. One shot on each of their heads. She shot it all within a second, just as she told Waller she could do. And at the next round, she shot those exact same bullet holes in the same length of time. And all over again five times over.

There was only just one hole on each target. A hole she’s shot at several times from a hundred yards away.

She placed the AK back onto the table.

“Done. Can I go now?”

“No. We decided to give you more of a challenge.”

The rubber tire, or what looked like one, where the targets were standing on, they all of a sudden started spinning slowly in a circle at a click on Rick Flag’s remote. Turning over the corner, back facing Deadshot, before it turned back to face her again. It was a fucking conveyer belt.

Deadshot bit onto her gums.

She took the pistol this time.

“Go.”

Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.

“We didn’t have this in our time,” Floyd said to her ear.

“Shut up.”

One. Two. Three. Four. Five.

The targets had turned. She had to shoot their backs. Nine. Ten. Eleven. Twelve.

Almost missed that one. She placed another magazine.

Fifteen.

Sixteen.

Eighteen.

Twenty-two.

The target looked like it was about to break. Even with it made of metal.

Thirty. Forty.

Then the target got faster.

She took an M-16 Carbine.

The recoil was sharp on her shoulder, painful when it pushed her back. She kept firing. Firing. She was slower, took her time just a bit more. She reloaded it not long after until finally, one of the target’s heads actually blew off.

Sixty. Seventy. Eighty

Finally, the Barret MRad Sniper rifle.

The targets started spinning even faster. But she didn’t flinch. She kept her focus.

She breathed.

She slowed her heartbeat.

She cleared her thoughts.

Ninety-seven.

‘Come on.’

Ninety-eight.

‘You’re almost there.’

Ninety-nine.

‘Become the bullet.’

One fucking hundred.

Breaths out, she put the gun back on the table.

Then Flag turned off the conveyer belt.

One hundred shots. Which meant each target should have had around ten bullets pierce through it’s head.

But there was only one bullet hole on all of them. Right at the center of their heads. The same ones she had already made.

“Sorry about the other one,” she shrugged. “Didn’t realize your equipment wasn’t up to par.”

Flag didn’t move his head, but let his eyes follow her until she walked over to the guards, put her hands behind her and smirked.

“I’m surprised you're not asking for a million dollars like your uncle.”

“He asked for Zoe to live a good life. And you couldn’t even give that. And trust me, I’ve already made my deal with your boss. Am I right, Waller?”

Waller’s frown was something no one would be able to draw. Her nostrils were flared up, and the way Deadshot just smiled at her, it was braver than anyone else in the whole building had done.

The guards kept their silence now. Didn’t stick a taser up her back. Didn’t beat her with a baton on the way to her cell. But when they locked her up, they added just one more lock on its hinges. She placed her elbows against the door and looked out through the opening, watching the guards avoid the look on her eye.

-----

Six eggs. The last chicken finally let him hand over her lays and he walked happily out of the barn and walked back into the house.

“Here,” he gave it to the old man.

“Thank you, son. You’re a real good man.”

“No. I don’t… I don’t know how to thank you enough. You saved my life.”

“Ah. Don’t mention it. The company you’ve given me? More than what I could ask for. You remind me so much of my son. Except, you're a lot nicer.”

Jason watched him crack the eggs into the pan.

“I should get going.”

“You won't stay for breakfast?”

“I can't. But thank you.”

“Here,” he went over to his fridge and took out a sandwich. “Prepared it for you. For the trip back.”

He didn’t even know how much he’s thanked this man so far. Who was he? Did he know Jason somehow? Was he someone he forgot?

Probably not. He was just a lonely old man in need of company. His wife would have died three, maybe four years ago, and he only ever goes out into the city once a month. He wasn’t sure if he even talks to people in between them.

“I guess I can have a bite,” Jason said.

The old man’s smile was incomparable.

They ate and laughed the whole time on that table. Jason ate the eggs, drank the freshest glass of milk he’s had in a long time. He had bathed in the barn that morning and he’s never felt better since he got dropped off in the middle of nowhere. It was humbling, where he was.

He could only wish he got to share this with Y/N. He and the farmer would have hit it off.

The old man went out with him on the porch. The bus to Gotham arrives in five minutes.

“Here.” Jason took out his wallet and took out a few bills. “For your troubles.”

“Son, I have no use for money. I grow my own food. I buy only the absolute necessities. You would end up needing it more than I do.”

“Please…”

The old man held out his hand, shook his head. Every time, he surprises him.

“I can't believe I never caught your name…” Jason said.

He grinned from ear to ear, tipped down his hat, then laughed. “Name’s Bruce.”

It caught him off guard. Just for a second. “What?”

“Bruce Larkin. Lived in Tennessee my whole life.”

He stretched out his hand for him to take. Eyes not leaving his face, Jason took it. “What’s your name, boy?”

“Jason. Jason Todd.”

“Young Jason. Pleasure to have met you.”

“You're a good man, Bruce.”

“I may have done my deeds, but I lived a good life. Now go. Bus should be here in a few seconds.”

It almost hurt having to leave the old man behind. One of these days, he’ll come back. Pay a visit. Still, it made him wonder who this man truly was, what his intentions actually were.

He’s only met so many good people, truly good people, ones who never think of anything in return and take happiness out of helping strangers they didn’t know. It was hard to believe that no matter the cruelties he’s dealt with his whole life, there were the pure angels out there to lift him back up.

And, the one thing he couldn’t believe he noticed, Farmer Bruce never once mentioned the mark on his face. Didn’t think it tainted him or looked at it long enough to make him squirm.

He looked back out at the house. Bruce was still there, hands in his pockets.

The bus stopped in front of him and the door split open.

If he gets on, he’ll be off to Gotham.

If he stays behind and crosses the street, he’ll wait another five minutes for the bus to Louisiana. He’ll risk his life and do anything to see Y/N again.

It wasn’t even a hard decision to make.

Jason watched the bus doors closed. Then when it left, he crossed the street. Minutes later the next bus stopped and he got in. Waving at Bruce through the window, he settled down and closed his eyes.

He watched the miles of grass, wide open fields, swamps, forests, and lakes pass through him in the window. He let the calmness help him mellow down. And although it helped, it only guilted him into remembering the tortures his one love had to be going through right now. While he was so lucky, she was suffering. Fuck.

He had no idea what to expect. The day turned to night, then turned back to morning. He was in the bus for hours. Absolutely nothing went on in his mind. And he was scared. He didn’t even have a plan. He was probably going to have to break into Belle Reve. And that was if they hadn’t already taken her away to some god awful mission and possibly lose her life.

He couldn’t sleep on the bus. But he was ready. He was going to stop at nothing to see her.

The gates of Belle Reve. He hopped off the cab and stared at it from the outside.

Then he saw a few guards doing their rounds around the perimeter.

If he was fast enough, he might catch one of them alone. It’ll be all he needed. So he watched the cameras. Found a blind spot. And it was a risk without his visor on.

But for Y/N, it didn’t seem like much of a risk at all.

-----

This cot was going to blow out anytime soon.

It wasn’t even that she was heavy. It was rickety and old, probably the same exact one Floyd used. And Floyd was a large man. The seams started to rip and the place where her ass lays against was as worn out as a dirty rag. She didn’t like to think about why that was.

But god help her if she even cares much about the stupid cot. She laid against the wall, knees up to her chest. The wall was staring back at her like and she wasn’t about to let it win. Was she going crazy? Probably. She didn’t care much about that either. She’ll be working with Harley. She’ll have to be crazy to deal with her.

She heard guards from outside. So she closed her eyes and pretended to sleep.

Only one guard, it seems. There weren’t any talking. And there was only one set of footsteps coming her way. She hated that even more. Then the taunting and catcalling and harassing won't be in any way hindered.

“Y/FN Y/LN?”

That was a first. No one’s said her real name in… ever.

“What do you want?”

She heard the small opening at her door slide open. The guard’s voice was less muffled now. “It’s me.”

Who-

That voice.

She looked up.

“Oh my god…” she leapt up the cot and ran all the way over to the door. Hands on the iron, eyes watery and gleaming against the dim, orange light.

Jason was the most beautiful man in the whole world and he looked no less than an angel disguised as a guard, half his face covered with a mask. But it was, without a doubt, his bright blue eyes that was staring right at her.

“I’m here, baby…”

“Jason…” The endless tears. All of it. She hadn’t even cried her whole time in Belle Reve. She’s screamed. She’s yelled out in the most horrible pain. But she never cried. And all those days of torture, it came out of her now. Even more so when Jason pulled down his mask and pressed his forehead against the door to get as close to her as she could.

At the bottom opening, he had his hand out. Y/N took it and held it so tightly that her fingers started going numb. He took off his gloves so he could feel her warmth. Or rather, let her feel his warmth.

“You are a complete dumbass for breaking in here,” she cried.

“I know. I am. But I’ve always been one for you.”

“God,” she reached out with her other hand, holding both of his. “I thought I’d never see you again.”

“Are you alright? What did they do to you?”

She wanted to lie. Tell him she was okay. Even though she was barely even holding up on her own two feet. “Just about how every prisoner gets treated here…”

“Fuck… Y/N…”

His thumb over her skin, she never felt so happy over something that was never going to last.

“I swear I’ll do anything to get you out.”

“Jay…” she cried. “You’ll die…”

“And if I don’t, you’ll die.”

“I’ll be alright. They’ll let you visit. After a while. I think. I’m not too sure.”

“I’m not taking that chance.”

“Jay-“

“No. I mean it. I’m not going to let this go. You can't possibly expect me to move on…”

No. She didn’t. Not without the worst kinds of pain that’ll possibly drive him mad.

“I’m so sorry…”

“Look at me.”

She did. He was so beautiful…

“I’ll get you out. You won't have to suffer for long. I’ll make sure of it. One way or another, I’m getting you out.”

He’s never held his hand so tight.

“Okay…”

Footsteps. They were coming.

“Shit…”

“I love you.”

“I love you so much. I promise you. I’m getting you out of here, Y/N.”

Y/N. She was Y/N again. Always had been.

Jason stuffed something small into her palm.

Then he left before the other guard could turn to the corner and see them together. He looked at Y/N, who was staring out the opening.

The guard squinted at her, walked closer, then shut the hole closed.

She looked at her palm.

The brightest blue engagement ring stared right back at her.

-----

Jason had to get out.

But he had to do this fast. He was at the guard’s lounge, where plenty were taking their lunch breaks. They didn’t give him so much as a glance when their eyes were focused onto the TV watching a football game. There was a telephone at a wall nearby. One he didn’t have to pay for.

He walked to it.

When he said he’ll do everything, he meant everything.

His pride could fucking suck it. His ego can die. He didn’t care if those assholes will have to think he’d grown soft. This was about Y/N. He didn’t care if he had to strut naked out at the Gotham Plaza. Though, this was so much worse.

Farmer Bruce would have done the same.

And he was going to get all the help he needed.

“Hello?”

“Dick,” his mouth trembled against the phone. “It’s me. Jason.”

“Jason?! This is a fucking collect call-“

“Then you better listen. Y/N’s in prison.”

“What?!”

He told him everything. About the deal with Waller. Her place in the Squad. The bomb in her neck. He tried with all he can to sound as desperate as he actually was. Dick, as much as it pained him to hear, wasn’t so convinced in what he asked of him.

“Jason, if you're asking me to help you get her out-“

“Please. Please. She’ll die. We need Oracle. And Robin.”

“Jason...” He heard Dick sigh.

The cops roared at the TV. Someone scored a goal.

“What Waller’s doing is wrong. You know that.”

“I know, but she made a deal with Bruce that he wasn’t to interfere with her task force.”

“We’re not Bruce. This is Y/N. Please, Dick, she’s the only thing I’ve got… You say you want me back in the family. Well, she’s my family. And I swear, if you help me with this, I owe you my life.”

“Okay. Okay,” he let out a sigh. “Okay. She’s… I understand.”

Jason’s breath was shaking against the phone. “I should be back in Gotham in a day’s time.”

“We need to do this as legally as possible. What did you have in mind?”

“I’m- I’m not so sure. It’s impossible to break her out of this place. They’ve upped the security since Harley broke out.”

“So we wait?”

“On her first mission out with the squad. We can go with them and sneak her out when no one’s looking. And I’ll need Oracle to come up with something that can disable the bomb in her neck.”

“Jason, that could be months from now.”

“Or days. Waller seemed persistent to get her here. I thought she might have been preparing for something. You heard about the news on Falcone?“

“Yeah. Real shady stuff. All his money went out to so many ghost accounts under different names of people that don’t even exist. And they’ve all been withdrawn. That’s billions of dollars.”

“Exactly. What if it’s just one guy? Waller knew about Falcone. She’s been warning Y/N not to work for him for a while. What if she knows exactly who’s behind it the whole time? Falcone’s puppet master to get him the money he needed?”

“That’s a long list of suspects, Jay.”

“We can narrow it dow-“

Loud groans from the guards screaming boos at the TV. When he looked up, he saw the game had been interrupted by breaking news.

Jason stopped talking to Dick when he saw the picture on the screen.

“Jason? You there?”

“Dick… Turn on the news…”

“Reports from Gotham City where it seems to have had history repeat itself from the night before the Arkham Knight Militia occupation. The National Bank of Gotham had just been exposed to a familiar cloud of fear toxin. One-hundred twenty-six people were inside the building as the smoke dispersed, and almost all of them had fallen victim from the bank’s armed guard, who had used his gun to massacre more than twenty people in the building. The victims were shown to have displayed severe cases of mania and hallucinations, causing them to act almost inhumane and do countless of harmful acts.”

“Fuck…” Dick said to the phone. “Not again…”

“The man behind this infamous toxin is no other than Dr. Jonathan Crane, also known by his alias as the Scarecrow-“

Vicki Vale stopped talking to the camera and pressed on her earpiece.

“Hold on. I’m getting reports on Scarecrow releasing a broadcast over at Times’ Square. Air it now!”

The camera switched over to one at the square. It faced the billboard.

Nothing changed. Not even his face. And if he weren’t paying attention, if Jason hadn’t been behind the camera the first time Scarecrow released his city wide warning, he wouldn’t have been able to tell the difference.

“This city… cannot so easily escape my reign of fear… If you thought the last time was the worst I can do, I am telling you now… Citizens of Gotham. This is no longer just about you. You can no longer escape. There is no use in evacuating… I have amassed a new Cloudburst weapon powerful enough to engulf the whole of the country in my latest toxin… This is not a warning to Gotham.

“This… is my only warning… to America…”

“Dick…” Jason said over to the phone. “Wanna bet on where he got the funding for that weapon?”

-----

MASTERLIST

THE BULLET MASTERLIST

------

everyartistwas-firstanamateur  @sarcasmismyfirstlove @damned-queen-of-gotham @idkmanicantenglish @wunderstell @birdy-bat-riya @get-loki@everyday-imfangirling @comic-nerd-dc@multifandoms916@icequeen208@offendedfishnoises@egdolan@xemiefx@arkhamtoddler@elsenthal@mythicbitchx@supremehaunter burning-alive  @lucy-roo  roseangel013bf @ loxbbg  reclusive-chicken-nuggethttp-cherriesshadowsndaisiesriver9noblezphilophobiazannoylinglyaries@knightfall05flowersgirl02 @l-inkage​ @hyp-oh-critical​

[youbloodymadgenius]

Super Ivar  (Modern!Dad!Ivar x reader)

A/N: Well... Once again, thank you for helping me, @inforapound, you’re the best beta reader 💖

Summary: Ivar doesn’t want to attend the school year-end show of his daughter. And you know why... 

Warnings: Ivar’s insecurities; grumpy Ivar, but mostly fluff. A lot of fluff (too  much fluff?)

Words: 1916

"I should have stayed home."

You take a quick look at Ivar before focusing on the road again. "You're kidding me, right?"

"No, I'm not."

Your husband's tone is surprisingly calm, while you're already seething.

"Ivar, we've already talked about this!" Upset, you don't even try to hide it.

"You've already talked about this, Y/N. You're the one who decided I should come. I never had a say." He speaks patronizingly, almost as if he was lecturing you. "But you don't think about the possible consequences. What if that babysitter you hired doesn't know how to take care of Bodil properly? I should have stayed with him."

The light is red, allowing you to look at him. "You can't be serious, can you?!"

He looks away and you feel like you're about to explode. "Ivar, look at me when I'm talking to you!"

Turning to you, he glares harshly.

"Agneta is not just a babysitter, Ivar, and you know it. She's a forty-two-year-old pediatric nurse whom we're paying a fortune every time we want to go out. She was already the one who took care of Inger when she was just a baby. There was never any problem. She's probably more qualified than us to take care of our children."

Fussing next to you, Ivar growls. "Bodil is not Inger, Y/N. Inger was always content, always happy. Just think, what will happen if the babysitter wants him to eat something he doesn't like? He's going to go to bed hungry."

Starting the car again, you take several deep breaths. "Ivar, stop so negative. You know very well that I prepared Bodil's meal before we left. And your son is perfectly capable to make himself understood."

"He's a baby!"

"A two-year-old baby, Ivar!!!" Losing patience, you nearly scream.

"Not yet! And anyway, he's too young to stay with a stranger."

"Ivar, that's enough! He'll be two years old in three weeks. Do you want me to take you home? Okay. I'll do it, I promise. We're just going to go to Inger's school, I'll pick her up and then let you explain to your ten-year-old daughter why you don't want to attend her school year-end show, okay?”

You park the car before opening the door. "Look, we're already there. I'll be back with her in two minutes, you talk to her and I'll take you home. Okay?" Your venomous tone makes him shiver.  

Grabbing your hand, Ivar speaks to you softly, lowering his head. "No, Y/N." A sharp intake of breath. "No, I can't do that."

"No, you can't, indeed. That's why you're coming with me. And please stop using Bodil as an excuse. We both know, very well, why you're reluctant to go in there. And it's not because of our son."

Ivar seems offended. "Of course it is!"

"Ivar, stop it! Be honest. You're talking to me, your wife of twelve years, remember? It's the same old story every year."

Sighing, he pouts before shrugging. "Tell me the truth, who wants to see a show called 'Superheroes at School'?"

"I do."

"Yes, you do. But you're an angel, while I'm an idiot with no patience at all. An idiot who can't get thrilled about a handful of kids singing out of tune or sputtering their text."

The faint smile in the corner of his mouth is enough for you to melt.

"And…," you add, urging Ivar to continue.

"And what?" He frowns, pretending not to understand.

"And admit you don't want to thank the teacher for her work over the past year, just like you don't want to shake hands with other parents."

"You know me too well. But damn it, Y/N, it's always the same old thing, over and over again. The farewell drink – two chips and commercial fruit juice – will take place in the schoolyard. There won't be a single chair, my legs will hurt…,” he winces, "everyone will watch me drag myself on my crutches like I'm a freak and on top of that I'll have to endure mindless conversation. Appealing, no?"

Your heart is tightening. He's not entirely wrong.

Speaking gently, you put one hand on his cheek in a tender and soothing gesture. "You'll do it for Inger, okay?"

Bringing your hand to his mouth, he kisses it. "Yes, for our little princess."

***

"Tell me again, why the superheroes?" Leaning towards you, Ivar whispers as the short play featuring Batman, Superman, and Catwoman at the age of ten has just ended.

You sigh. "Ivar, because that's the theme the teacher has been working on all year. You should know, Inger told us enough about that. She even said it was Spiderman who taught her long divisions."

Infuriated, Ivar rolls his eyes. "Nonsense! I taught her that. And she was six!"

You're about to tell him he's exaggerating when Mrs. Berg takes the floor. "The show is now over."

"It is about time," Ivar mumbles and you elbow him, sighing once again.

"We will soon gather in the schoolyard for a time of sharing, but I ask for your attention a little longer.”

Hearing Ivar growling next to you, you glance hardly at him. "Hush!"

"This year, as you may know, the superheroes worked alongside me, with your children. A few weeks ago, your children were asked to choose their favourite superhero and to write a short text explaining why they chose them. I must say that superheroes inspired your children and there were some very nice surprises. Many texts made me laugh, all stirred me up and some moved me to tears. So, I wanted to share this with you, and I suggested to your children that those who wish to read their writings tonight should do so. Five of them wish to do so. Thank you for welcoming Joen, the first of them."

As a chubby little boy walks a few steps forward, a sheet of paper in his shaky hands, Ivar whispers, "We can leave now, don't you think? No way Inger is going to put herself forward, as shy as she is. It's good though, I wouldn't have wanted her to praise Spiderman, the fucking king of math!"

"No, we're not moving." Putting your hand on his arm to prevent him from picking up his crutches, you explain as if he was a child, "That would be extremely rude, Ivar."

Hearing that, Ivar intends to protest but upset people are hushing you both and your husband, clearly annoyed, eventually quiets.

Half listening, you watch first the little Joen, who's talking about his admiration for Captain America, second the pretty Gerta explaining her love for Wolverine. While another child is speaking, you make sure to keep a close look on your childish husband.

Growling, sighing, he finally takes his phone out of his pocket.

"Ivar!" Speaking through clenched teeth and tearing the device out of his hands, your look at him hard.

Rolling his eyes, he folds his arms and you're pretty sure he's sulking. You have to bite your tongue so you don't puff at his childish behavior.

Suddenly you can see the disbelief on his face as he grabs your hand.

"Look Y/N! It's our baby!"

Following his eyes, you realize he's right. Inger is standing on the makeshift stage, panic clear in her huge blue eyes, even if she's trying to contain herself.

Ivar squeezes your hand a little harder and you can't help but hold your breath as your stomach ties up in knots.

"Our little princess, my love…"

Taking a deep breath, Inger begins, "My super—". Blushing, she stops before looking for you. When her wide-open eyes meet yours, you try to give her all your strength and love. She smiles faintly.

"My own superhero doesn't fly, doesn't drive a batmobile and he cannot become invisible. But he's as strong as the Hulk and probably smarter than Iron Man."

As she stops, you can see she's terrified. Taking two steps towards her, Mrs. Berg, a hand on her shoulder, encourages her to pursue.

"My superhero doesn't have a cape. My superhero isn't like the others. He's a superhero with crutches."

Ivar's hand is crushing yours. "What is she doing?"

As stunned as he is, you answer sincerely. "I don't know."

"My superhero, stronger than all the others, is my daddy." Looking at Ivar, her smile is full of love.

"My daddy is different. His legs don't work very well. Sometimes my classmates ask me if I mind. But why would I care? Do I need to have a dad who looks like the others when I can have mine?"

No sound. You could pretty much hear a pin drop on the floor.

Getting bold, Inger speaks louder. "My daddy didn't teach me how to ride a bike and will never play football with my little brother. But he can do a lot of other things. Playing chess, going to the cinema with me, telling me Vikings stories. I think my daddy would have wanted to be a Viking superhero, and I'm sure he would have thrown Thor's lightnings. But above all, my daddy teaches me every single day that you can and have to push your boundaries. When he was born, the doctors told my grandma that my daddy could never stand up. Yet, he gets up every morning and walks every day. So yes, maybe he has a slight limp, maybe he's not moving very fast, maybe you want to look at him sometimes because his walking is weird. But when I look at him, when I look at my daddy, my eyes, my mind, and my heart are filled with admiration. Because seeing him, every day reminds me that nothing is impossible. That's what my daddy taught me, if I fight hard enough, then my dreams will come true. My daddy is different, but different doesn't mean inferior or less worthy.  And he's my daddy. And a superhero. Who wouldn't want a superhero as a father?"

Tears run freely on your cheeks as applause resounds in the room. Ivar is sobbing next to you.

The next minute, Inger is standing in front of you. Sliding one arm around Ivar's neck, you can hear her whispering. "I love you, daddy."

Then she gently kisses your cheek. "I love you too, mom."

***

"Of course, sweetheart, enjoy playing with your friends a little longer." After kissing your daughter, you walk toward Ivar.

A glass of orange juice in his hand, he's talking to other parents. You've never seen him like this before. He stands incredibly straight, smiling at everyone. Your husband is proud. Proud of his daughter. Proud of himself, you can see it in his eyes. And you, you're so proud of the both of them that you feel like you're melting, your heart filled with joy and happiness.

Wrapping an arm, lovingly, around his waist, you give an apologetic look to the people he talks to and draw him a little closer.

Standing on tiptoes, you kiss his cheek. "I thought you hated it."

Frowning, he looks at you. "What are you talking about?"

"You know… The farewell drink in the schoolyard, the mindless chat, the chips and the commercial fruit juice…"

He knows perfectly well that you're teasing him.

His lips graze yours. "Yes, I hated it, you're right. But this was before, Y/N. When I wasn't a superhero yet." Puffing his chest, he winks, flashing you a cocky grin.

Shit. We're not out of the woods yet.

🛡⚔️🛡

@saldelys​ @waiting4inspiration​ @honestsycrets​ @lisinfleur​ @gearhead66​

[thedreammweaver]

Please, Go All the Way Chapter 7 FINAL (Burton-schumacherverse riddlebird, fem!pregnant!Oswald)

Chapter 6

Ed had been planning to avoid Oswin eventually anyways but it was proving to be harder than he expected.

It’d been two months since they fought and Ed wanted to call her desperately. He couldn’t though, the baby would be there soon and he’d just have to ditch her again. Still he found his heart aching, and strangely not just for Oswin but for the baby as well. He found himself daydreaming about holding them and having to remind himself that it would never happen. That made him, much to his surprise, very sad. It felt lonely and cold in his apartment now. The phone had rung a few times but he didn’t dare answer it.

Ed decided he needed a distraction and settled on pestering Batman. He’d sent him on a wild goose chase and was finally being confronted by him in his lair, much to Ed’s dismay Batman had Robin with him. He shook it off, continuing with his schtick. “Ah, Batsy! You finally came. It’s rude to be late, you know. It’s also rude to bring an uninvited plus one...”

“Get on with it, Nygma.”

Ed was happily spinning his cane at the annoyance in Batman’s voice, he cleared his throat “Riddle me this, Batman, What can you break, even if-“ Ed was distracted by the way Batman was standing protectively in front of Robin “How can- what can you..” the protectiveness was subtle but strong in the way a parent automatically protects their child, Ed wanted to protect someone like that. He found his thoughts drifting back to Oswin and her baby, wishing he could be with them, and he completely deflated “Nevermind...” he sighed, dropping his cane and flopping onto the floor. Batman tilted his head, confused as he walked over. “Is this part of the riddle?” He asked gentling nudging Ed with his foot. “Just take me to jail or something...” Ed groaned, his voice muffled by the fact he was face down. “The only crime you’ve committed tonight is wasting my time.” Batman muttered, turning away “Feel better soon, Ed..”

Ed bounced his leg anxiously as he sat in his apartment staring at his phone. When did making a call get so hard? He sighed as got up and forced himself to walk over, picking up the phone and dial Oswin’s number.

Ed expected Oswin to yell at him as soon as she opened the door but she was civil as she let him inside so they could talk. Two months didn’t feel like that long of a time but Oswin looked rather different. Her hair was longer and a darker shade of grey, she was of course showing more now being nine months along. The thought passed in Ed’s mind that she had a cherubic quality about her. Ed went to speak as they got to the sitting room but was stopped “Firstly,” Oswin started, sitting down on the couch “I did not trick you into being a father, I wanted to get closer to you so we could be involved romantically, yes, however, when I said no strings attached regarding the kid I meant it. How was I supposed to know you can’t compartmentalize those things?? It hurts me that you think I would throw around my word like that..”

“I’m sorry..” Ed admitted “I..should’ve said something.”

“Yes, you should have. Especially if I was making you feel used..I didn’t- I... I’ve never dated before...I didn’t know how else to get you to spend time with me besides ordering you around I guess..” Oswin wasn’t used to treating people as if they were anything but beneath her before they did it to her first “I didn’t mean to-“

“It’s okay,” Ed reassured, sitting next to her “I..know you didn’t now.”

“So..can we go back to being friends? Avoiding you is very tiring.”

“Actually...” Ed was wringing his hands “I think I do want to be more than that, concerning the baby as well.. I’ve been having these feelings lately like I want to be there to- I’ve been worrying about them a lot. I want to be there I just don’t want to mess anything up...I don’t know if I’m caring or reliable enough to be a parent.”

Oswin snorted “I think you proved you’re caring and reliable to a fault, Eddie.”

That made Ed chuckle. The mood definitely felt lighter now that they’d talked and tension they’d both been carrying for months. “Did you do something to your hair?” Ed asked finally making eye contact with Oswin.

“Yes..” she said shyly “It got longer which...it doesn’t usually do and I just wanted to try something a bit different with it. Do you like it?”

“Yes,” Ed answered, he was about to wish he could compliment her further but then he realized now he could say it freely “I like everything about how you look, Ozzie.”

A deep blush came over Oswin’s face “That’s nice of you to-“ Oswin was interrupted by wincing in reaction to a sharp pain shooting through her middle.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I think it’s just-“ Oswin’s brow furrowed “How convenient would it be if I was in labour right now?”

“I’d think that was more ironic than-“ Ed stopped as he realized Oswin was serious “Oh.”

Ed stayed with Oswin for the entire fourteen grueling hours of labour. It was now early the next morning and Oswin was supposed to be resting but she couldn’t stop admiring the baby boy asleep in her arms. Ed had been keeping his distance but curiosity was drawing him closer. He had a thought that quelled some of his worries, he’d attended the birth of his child he was already doing much more than his father had ever done. As he walked over he couldn’t help but take in how adorable the baby was with mostly Oswin’s features but his bright orange hair. The baby was snuffling softly as he squirmed in his sleep. “Do you want to hold him?” Oswin offered. Ed hesitated but soon nodded and took the small but heavy bundle being offered to him. As he looked at the tiny boy, flippers twitching as he slept, Ed couldn’t stop his heart from melting. He hugged the baby close to him, knowing that with the amount of love he was feeling he could never and would never be like his father.

[dccomicsimagines]

What’s Lost is Found - Batfamily Imagine - Part Five

Part One  Part Two   Part Three  Part Four   Part Six  Part Six.Five  Part Seven  Part Eight  Part Nine  Part Ten  Part Eleven

Requested by Anon -  I suppose you won’t continue What’s Lost Is Found. BUT I WANT YOU TO, I WANT TO SEE HOW EVERYTHING EVOLVES. I LIVE THE SERIE OMG

Requested by Anon -  Hi! I love your work so much! Could you please do a part 5 to What’s Lost is Found? It’s my favorite series.

***

You were sitting on the couch, writing a essay for school. Dick was in the kitchen, pacing around as he talked on the phone. He had been talking on the phone a lot lately. You were suspicious at first until you realized he had to be talking to a lover or someone like that, because he wouldn’t talk to anyone else in that tone.

“I miss you too.” Dick’s voice was soft. You wrinkled your nose, slightly disgusted with the idea he had a lover. “No, I think we can try it. I’ll bring it up tonight and get a feel for it.” There was a pause. “Yes, I love you too. Bye, honey.” He blew a kiss into the phone.

You held back a gag. When did he get this lover? Who is it? Your eyes widened when you realized that he might have had this lover over at the house while you were asleep and you felt even more disgusted. Of course, your father had romantic partners too, but he was always discrete with them. You never saw them. Dick, on the other hand, was not as discrete.

“Hey kiddo, what are you working on?” Dick asked, coming to sit down next to you. He had a bounce in his step and a stupid grin on his face. Whoever he was talking to must be putting out a lot. A shiver ran down your spine in horror. What if his lover was your guidance counselor or one of your teachers? 

“Homework,” you coughed, reassuring yourself that it couldn’t be one of your teachers since you were sure you would noticed a change in the way they treated you. You relaxed slightly.

“That’s good.” He reached over to ruffle your hair. You snorted at the touch. “So I was wondering how you would feel about lunch and a movie this weekend?” You had to suppress the urge to roll your eyes.

“Like I have a choice?” Your voice had a little bit of an edge. You hated when he tiptoed around the subject. Why couldn’t he just come out and say what he wanted? 

Dick flinched at your tone. He gave you the ‘you’re being so mean when I’m being nice’ face. “Of course, you have a choice. Why would I ask if you didn’t?” 

You pursed your lips, keeping your eyes on your laptop. “What’s the catch?”

“Well, there’s someone I want you to meet.” Dick smirked. He kept watching you.

You held up a hand, glaring at him. “If this someone is one of my teachers or that ditsy guidance counselor, I will kill you.” 

Dick was taken back, eyes widening. “It’s not someone from your school, I promise.” He frowned. “Did you know I was seeing someone?” 

You rolled your eyes. “It’s obvious. You aren’t that good at keeping secrets.” Dick’s hand came over to run his fingers through your hair. 

“I should have figured.” Dick smiled with a glint of pride in his eye. You bit your lip to hold back a smile. “So I assume that’s a yes?” 

A sigh escaped you. “Fine.” You focused back on your homework only to suddenly have your face pressed into Dick’s chest when he trapped you in a hug. 

“Thanks kiddo.” He kissed the top of your head, tightening his arms around you. “I love you so much.” You sighed, wondering who the mystery lover would be.

***

Saturday came fast and you found yourself standing outside of a restaurant with Dick, waiting for his lover to show up. “You’ve met them before if I remember correctly,” Dick said with his hands in his pockets. “Back when I took over for your father.” 

You hummed, mentally eliminating a few suspects. It had to be someone he knew from before then, not someone he just met. You crossed your arms, glancing inside the restaurant.  

Dick wrapped his arm around your shoulders and pulled you into his side. “Thanks for coming, kiddo.” 

You nodded. A flash of orange skin and red hair caught the corner of your eye. You turned, feeling dumb for not realizing who Dick’s lover would be.

“Kori,” Dick said, leaving you to go hug Koriand'r aka Starfire. You did remember her if only for her orange skin. It fascinated you as a kid. To be honest, it still did. 

“Dick, it’s so good to see you,” Kori laughed. They kissed passionately on the lips. You looked away. The blood rushed to your face when you saw people from the restaurant staring at them. 

They pulled away from each other, both smiling like idiots. Your stomach twisted when they turned their attention to you. “Kori, you remember (Y/N),” Dick said, clapping a hand on your shoulder. 

“Yes, (Y/N).” Kori smiled brightly. You had to admit you were surprised. Since when is anyone happy to see you? Suddenly, you found your face pressed against her breast as she gave you a big hug. “You’ve grown so much, but still as beautiful as ever.” 

Your face burned. “Thank you,” you said carefully. You pulled away from her. Dick was grinning. You could see his mind whirling, probably thinking that this was going great. Honestly, it was too early for you to make such a call. 

Kori reached out to play with your hair. “Shall we go eat? I have heard great things about this place.” She pulled you into her side and dragged you along into the restaurant. Dick went ahead to open doors for the two of you. You were beginning to see where Dick learned his touchiness from.

***

You hung back, watching Dick and Kori ahead of you. They were holding hands. Dick seemed so relaxed, happier than he had ever been since you came to live with him. Your heart sank slightly. 

After dinner and the movie, Dick and Kori wanted to walk around the nearby mall. You made sure to keep your distance to give them time alone. It wasn’t like they made you feel like you were intruding, but their lovey-dovey attitude was embarrassing. 

Dick turned around to look for you. He grinned when he saw you, gesturing for you to catch up. You sighed before walking faster. “Do you want ice cream, kiddo?” Dick reached out to wrap an arm around you. Kori smiled at you.

“I suppose,” you said, glancing between the two of them. You tensed slightly. 

“Is there any store you want to look at, (Y/N)?” Kori asked, taking your hand. Your chest tightened at being trapped between them. Too close for comfort.

“No.” You blinked, tears threatening to fall. Your heart ached, and you realized this is would it would be like to have parents. Of course, you loved your father, but he would never do anything like this. 

Dick kissed your forehead. “Okay, how about we get ice cream and look around? We’ll stop if anything catches your interest.” He pulled you along. Kori’s hand was still in yours. The heat from her hand warming yours almost like sunlight. Slowly, you began to relax and enjoy yourself.

***

Over the next several weeks, Kori gradually entered your daily life. She would come over for dinner, even helping you cook. On weekends, the three of you would do something. Part of you wondered if they were planning everything out, so it would be a smooth transition when Kori moved in.

They never officially asked you until it got to the point where Kori was there when you went to bed and when you woke up in the morning. You didn’t mind too much. So when they asked, you said yes and Kori was suddenly part of your household. Her stuff appeared in the bathroom and around the house. 

At the very least, Kori kept Dick distracted. You had a freedom that you hadn’t had since your dad died. As long as you showed up where you were supposed to be, you could do whatever you wanted.

Therefore, you spent most of your time at the local library. You used their computers to read up on the news in Gotham. Knowing that Dick blocked any news from Gotham, you had to find a different way. It was your home. You had a right to know what was happening.

 Damian was on a reign of terror so to speak. He was keeping the peace, even if he went a bit farther than your father even went. People noticed a difference in Batman, but didn’t know it was no longer the same man under the mask. You started reading the news so much that it got to the point of being an obsession of yours. 

One day, your heart skipped a beat when you came across a conspiracy website that had an article about Bane’s murder. You read it, unable to stop yourself. 

Your blood ran cold when the article detailed how Robin murdered Bane, thus why Robin disappeared after that night. Everything around you faded away. The familiar smell of smoke, rotting fish, and iron came back to you. Pain blossomed in your temple. The horrible crack of your father’s head filled your ears followed by Bane’s laughter.  

However, something new came back. You remembered the feel of the knife in your hand. The spray of the blood when you stabbed Bane over and over again. Bane had laughed, daring you to kill him before he screamed when you finally did it.

Suddenly, a hand landed on your shoulder. You fell out of your chair with a scream. The blood drained out of your face when you found you were still in the library. One of the librarians was standing over you.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you,” she said, helping you to your feet. “It’s just that your time on the computer is up.” 

You swallowed hard. “Yeah, okay.” You grabbed your backpack. Your hand shaking so badly you almost dropped it. “Thank you.”  The smell of that night was still in your nose as you went out the door. You broke into a run. Panic clamped your heart. Your breath coming out in gasps.  Black swarmed your vision as you made it home. All you wanted was to get away and hide. 

Once you were inside, you slammed the door behind you and ran up the stairs. You could hear Kori calling out for you, but it sounded so far away.  Your heart was pounding so fast you thought it would burst from your chest. The black in your vision got worse. You couldn’t get enough air through the ragged gasps. Your bedroom door banged behind you and the last thing you remembered is smacking onto the floor. 

***

You broke through the darkness enough to feel the sensation of being held. A sigh escaped you. Your nose tickled when you caught the scent of Kori’s perfume.  “They’ve calmed,” Kori whispered right by your ear. You felt so tired. Your eyes too heavy to open. 

“Good.” Dick’s voice was dry from exhaustion. “I thought that round was never going to end.” A hand rubbed your back. From the calluses, you knew it was Dick’s. “(Y/N) hasn’t been this bad since right after...you know.” 

“This has happened before?” Kori’s voice raised in surprise. You felt yourself being laid down and tucked under a blanket. 

Dick swallowed hard. “According to Alfred, they were like this for two weeks after Bruce passed. They snapped out of it when Damian smacked them during one of the fits. (Y/N) almost broke his arm, but they woke up and were aware for a bit.” Kori’s thin fingers ran through your hair, brushing your temple. “They would come and go for weeks after, except they wouldn’t have the fits. It was like they would just go blank. No emotion, no life.” 

“But they haven’t done that recently.” Kori shifted. You realized you must be in bed from how the surface moved under you. 

“No, something must have triggered them.” Dick sighed. You imagined him pinching the bridge of his nose. “I worked so hard to keep them from the news in Gotham. They must have heard something somehow. I mean, they didn’t even get triggered when they got poisoned by Cheshire.” 

Kori hummed. Her fingers still in your hair. “Well, we’ll help them through this. Trauma doesn’t go away so easily.” 

“No, it doesn’t.” You felt Dick’s lips on your forehead. Sleep was pulling you back under. “To think I was more worried about how we were going to get through Thanksgiving.” Dick pulled away as you slept once more.

***

You woke up alone in your own bed. Every part of you felt sore. You were in the flannel pajamas Kori had bought you. A frown pulled at your lips when you saw the hand shaped bruises on your arms. Slowly, you got out of bed, gasping when pain shot through your leg. You caught yourself on your bedside table. Your hand brushed the clock, sending it crashing to the ground. 

“Crap,” you hissed. Taking a deep breath, you breathed through the pain and grabbed the clock to set it back on the table. 

“(Y/N)!” Kori shouted. You could hear her flying up the stairs. She burst into your room, skidding to a halt when she saw you up. “Oh, you’re awake!” The relief in her voice surprised you as you were suddenly in her arms. She spun you around. “You scared us so much. Don’t do that again.” 

You got dizzy, still too weak. “Kori, you’re making me sick.” 

“Oh, sorry.” She set you down on the bed before resting her hands on your cheeks to study your face. “Are you hungry? You should eat.” 

You blinked, staring at her vibrant green eyes. Hunger gnawed at your stomach. “Yes.”  Kori grinned. She grabbed the throw blanket on the end of your bed and wrapped it around you. You got to your feet with her help and you slowly made your way downstairs. Kori set you on the couch before going to the kitchen. “Where did I get these bruises?” You pulled up your sleeve to stare at the dark ugly hand print on your arm.

“That was from me.” Kori banged around the kitchen. You winced at the noise. “I was trying to stop you from shattering your window.” Your eyes widened in shock. Wouldn’t you remember if you did something like that? 

“Oh.” You heard the microwave running. Reaching for the remote, you turned on the TV to watch the news. You are surprised when you discovered a week had passed since you were at the library.

Kori came back in the living room with a tray with a steaming bowl of soup on it. She set it on your lap before disappearing back into the kitchen. You took a sip of the soup. It was obviously from a can, but you could eat it. Kori came back with a stack of recipe books. “Let’s watch something different,” she said carefully. She reached over and changed the channel to a rerun of some comedy. 

You frowned, sensing something was up. She ignored your look and opened the recipe book. “What are you doing?” you finally asked after several minutes of silence. 

“I’m preparing for the meal of Thanksgiving,” Kori said, not looking up as she bookmarked a page. “It’s in two days.” 

“Oh.” You took another sip of soup. A rock formed in your stomach. You ruined everything again. “Can I help?” You needed to try to fix things. Why did you have to be such a burden?

Kori studied you. “Are you up for it? You just woke up a half an hour ago.” You could see from her micro-expressions that she really wanted help and you knew Dick wasn’t going to be able to do that. He’d probably just burn the house down.

You nodded, taking another sip of soup before grabbing one of the recipes books. “I can help.” 

“Alright then.” Kori smiled in relief and the two of you got to work.

*** 

Dick came home once you and Kori had the shopping list done. He froze, staring at you. His bag dropped to the floor. You turned to look at him, flinching when you saw he had a black eye. “You’re awake.” Suddenly, you were in Dick’s arms. You felt tears dripping onto the top of your head. “You had me scared to death.” 

Kori took the tray into the kitchen to give you and Dick more space. Dick tightened his arms around you. “Okay,” you mumbled, unsure how to react. 

“Good.” He collapsed on the couch, setting you on his lap. Your face burned slightly, but you were too tired to move. Besides, Dick wasn’t letting you go. 

“I’m going to the store,” Kori said, slipping on her coat. “Dick, are you good?” She smiled at the two of you. 

“Yeah, (Y/N) and I will be fine.” Dick kissed the top of your head. He rocked you, tears still in his eyes. Kori nodded and left. Time passed and Dick still didn’t let go of you.

You reached up to touch his black eye. He hissed in pain slightly. “Sorry.”

“No, it’s okay.” He kissed your forehead. 

“Did I punch you?” You felt him tense.

“Not on purpose.” Dick grabbed a blanket and covered both you and himself. “You were trying to get away and you elbowed me.” 

You frowned, relaxing enough to lay your head against his shoulder. “I’m sorry.” 

“It’s okay.” He rubbed your back. “I know you were looking up the news in Gotham.” His voice softened to a whisper. “Honey, I know why you would want to know, but I don’t think you’re ready. I thought I was going to have to put you in the hospital.” You didn’t say anything, not sure what to say. “We got to take it slow, okay? One day at a time.” 

“Okay.” You buried your face into his chest to hide your tears. Dick just squeezed his arms around you to hold you tighter.

The two of you were quiet for a long time. Dick took a deep breath. “Well, Thanksgiving is in two days. You were gone for about a week.” 

“I know. Kori and I were deciding what to make.” You untucked your face from his chest to look at the comedy on the TV. “Who else is coming?” 

Dick paused, looking troubled for a second. You frowned, sensing there was something he was trying not to say. “It’s just the three of us. We’d figured you wouldn’t be up for a big celebration.” Dick gave you a bright smile, but you could see he was hiding something. 

You hummed, keeping your eyes on the TV. Your eyes grew heavy and you pushed away your concern for what Dick was trying to hide. Dick kept you close as you let sleep take you once again.

***

The next day, you, Kori, and Dick were in the kitchen. You were making bread rolls while Dick and Kori peeled potatoes.  You felt so fragile emotionally. Dick and Kori insisted you take it easy and you couldn’t find the will to disagree with them.

“I’m excited for all this food,” Dick said, smiling over at you. You glanced over at him as you kneaded the dough. 

“Yes, it’s going to be quite good.” Kori leaned over to kiss his cheek. Dick chuckled, smiling brighter than before. Your heart fell slightly. Why did you have to ruin everything? Dick would be happier without you. Maybe you should just disappear? 

You shivered violently. Shaking your head, you stopped those thoughts. The last thing you needed was to become depressed too if you weren’t depressed already. 

Dick wiped his hands before getting up and leaving the room. He came back a moment later with a sweater. “Gotta keep you warm.” He wrapped the sweater around your shoulders. 

“Thanks,” you whispered. You added more flour to your dough to stop it from sticking to your hands. Kori smiled over at the two of you. All you saw was love in her eyes. It took you off guard. You kept your eyes on your dough. 

Dick hugged you from behind. His chin rested on the top of your head. “We’re going to have to take a picture of the final meal. Alfred will want to see how talented you are.” 

“It’s not a talent. Alfred taught me.” You tensed slightly in his arms, slowing down your kneading. 

“Alfred taught me too, but I can’t bake or cook like you can.” Dick kissed the top of your head. He moved to sit back down next to Kori, peeling more potatoes. 

“That is true.” Kori nodded in agreement. “You are very talented, (Y/N).” 

Your face burned as you started to shape the dough into bun shapes. Dick’s phone rang. He frowned when he looked at the caller ID. “I’ll be a minute.” He quickly got up to leave the room.

Kori noticed you watching him go. “It’s just work, (Y/N),” she reassured rather strangely. You gave her a questioning look. Kori simply smiled, getting up to help you move the shaped dough onto a baking sheet. 

A wave of exhaustion washed over you. “I think I’m going to lay down while the dough proves again.”

“Of course.” Kori took the baking sheet away and covered it with a towel. “I’ll finish the rolls from here. Take as long a nap as you want.” She came over to kiss the top of your head.  You slowly got up and headed up to your bedroom. Dick was on the phone in his and Kori’s bedroom, but you didn’t bother to listen. All you could think was the comfort of your bed.

***

You woke up early the next morning. Part of you wanted to go for a run, but you remembered how Dick and Kori wanted you to take it easy, so you settled for a slow walk instead. The leaves were starting to change. You snorted at the sight. In Gotham, the leaves would have fallen already. 

On the way back home, you stopped at the gas station to pick up coffee and breakfast sandwiches. You figured since you were already going to be cooking most of the day, you might as well avoid making breakfast. Besides, maybe you’ll feel less like a burden if you got breakfast for Kori and Dick too.

You walked through the front door to find Dick frowning at you. “(Y/N), where have you been?” He seemed more worried than angry, but your heart ached anyway. 

“I got breakfast.” Tears burned your eyes. You cursed yourself for being so emotional.

Dick’s face softened. “Oh well, thank you.” He came over to take the coffees and the bag of sandwiches from you. Kori stumbled down the stairs. Her hair a wild mess of red. She was only wearing one of Dick’s shirts. When she raised her arms above her head, you could see she wasn’t wearing underwear. 

You quickly averted your gaze and took off your sweater. “Kori, could you put some underwear on, please?” Dick asked when he realized what you just saw. 

“Oh yes. I forgot.” Kori slowly made her way back upstairs. 

“Sorry.”  Dick was blushing. “I told her to make sure to wear clothes when you’re around.” 

You frowned, still feeling very weepy. Dick studied you before reaching over to pull you into a hug. “I’m not mad, kiddo. You just scared me. I woke up and you were gone.” A sob escaped your lips and you started full out bawling. You felt so embarrassed, but you couldn’t stop yourself. Dick rocked you back and forth, keeping you in his arms. 

Kori came back downstairs with underwear on this time. She stopped when she saw you, but then came up to join the hug. “What happened?”

You couldn’t speak. All you could do was gasp. “(Y/N) thought I was mad at them for getting us breakfast,” Dick explained when you didn’t speak. 

“Oh poor baby.” Kori kissed the top of your head. Eventually, you got control of yourself and pulled away from him. Dick had a giant wet spot on his shirt, but he didn’t seem to care. You turned to the sink to clean up your face while Dick and Kori sat down for breakfast. Taking a deep breath, you joined them and pretended you hadn’t sobbed your heart out. 

Once you all finished breakfast, the cooking began. You led the way with Kori’s help. Dick stayed out of the way, mostly just washing dishes. 

Hours later, the three of you sat down to a lovely thanksgiving dinner. Dick had to take a few pictures before he could finally let you eat. 

“This is so good,” Dick said after he had taken several bites from his plate. “I’m so glad I just washed dishes.” 

Kori and you laughed. You took a bite of mashed potatoes, feeling very content. More content than you felt in a long time. 

Around the time when you were bringing the two types of pie to the table, there was a knock on the door. Dick and Kori shared worried looks. “I’ll get it,” Dick said, getting up and leaving. You started to follow him, but Kori stopped you. 

“Stay here,” she whispered, pushing you down in your seat before following Dick. You frowned, but stayed where you were. Part of you wanted to cry again, but you held it in. 

The next thing you heard was Kori yelling in her native language and firing star bolts. Dick was trying to calm her down. Someone else was yelling too. You got up from your seat and shuffled over to take a peek. Superman, dressed as Clark Kent, was at the door with a tall black man. You focused on the man before recognizing him from your dad’s files. It was Martian Manhunter’s human form. You frowned. Why were they here and why was Kori attacking them?

“You are not taking (Y/N).” Kori sounded deadly. You shivered, scared. 

“Starfire, you are not (Y/N)’s guardian. This doesn’t concern you,” Clark said in a low tone. He turned to Dick. “We believe (Y/N) is very ill, and they need help you can’t give them.” 

Dick’s face dropped into a batglare. Your heart skipped a beat at the sight. It looked even scarier than your father’s. “No, (Y/N) stays here. I’ve already talked to them about seeing a therapist, but they don’t need to go to whatever facility you are going to lock them in.”  Dick growled. “Why did you have to come today of all days? I already told you this over the phone.” 

You swallowed hard. Your body started shaking violently. Were you sick enough to be locked up? You didn’t mean to kill Bane. Was this to be your punishment?

J’onn must have heard your thoughts. He turned to look at you with the others following his gaze. Kori rushed over to you and pulled you back into the kitchen. “They are not going to take you,” she said firmly, looking you straight in the eye. “I won’t let them.” She pulled you into a tight hug. Your face was pressed against her breast, but you were too scared to care. Now that it was possible, you didn’t want to be taken away from Dick and Kori.

Kori pulled you into the corner of the kitchen when Dick walked with Clark and J’onn behind him. “No, you are not taking them.” Kori raised her hand, star bolt ready to fly. 

“We’re just going to talk, Kori,” Dick soothed, coming over to study you. “No one is going to take you, (Y/N).” He frowned at how hard you were shaking. 

To his credit, Clark looked sick by how scared he made you. J’onn frowned, reading your mind. “They are stable for now. Just terrified,” J’onn mumbled. 

“They were just fine before you two showed up.” Dick turned to face them, standing in front of you protectively. “(Y/N) had a minor setback, but they are getting better. I don’t know why you all had to get involved now. None of you wanted anything to do with (Y/N) after Bruce died.” Kori tightened her arms around you. You started to cry quietly. 

“Roy Harper and Donna Troy expressed some concerns.” Clark cleared his throat.

Dick rolled his eyes. “Of course, they did.” 

“Neither of them offered to help. All they wanted to do was lock (Y/N) up,” Kori snapped. “I came as soon as I came back to earth and heard what happened.” She kissed the top of your head. “I love you, (Y/N).”

You cried harder, unable to believe her. “I’m doing my best with (Y/N) and they have gotten better.” Dick turned to rub your back. “They are my kid. You don’t see me coming in and questioning what you are doing with Jon or M’gann.” 

“That’s not the same thing,” Clark protested. 

“Yes, it is.” Dick glared at the two men. “I understand why they came to you with concerns, but I’m handling it. (Y/N) and I are working through things. We’re both had to make changes, but we did it.” Dick took a deep breath. “So unless you want to stay for pie, I’m going to ask you to leave.” 

Clark and J’onn shared a long look. “Sorry for interrupting your thanksgiving.” Clark and J’onn left with Dick following them out. Kori kept holding onto you. You started to calm down. No one was going to take you away. 

“You’re okay.” Kori soothed, moving you to the sink to help you clean up your face. Dick came back in, hugging you from behind. 

“I’m sorry about that, kiddo.” He kissed the back of your head. “You’re here to stay.” You relaxed. “So should we have some pie and watch some football?” 

Kori wrinkled her nose. “You know I still don’t understand why grown men run around a field and tackle each other?” You bit your lips to keep from laughing.

“Because it’s fun,” Dick said, throwing his arms in the air. “It’s like when you tackle me.” His eyes widened, realizing what he just said. You couldn’t hold back the laughter after that. Kori looked even more confused, but smiled at the sound of your laughter. Dick grinned. “Not like that.” He kissed your forehead again. You laughed hard, happier than you have been in a long time.

[imaginedcreaderinsert]

Is that a hickey? —Jason Todd x Reader

SUMMARY: Red Hood saves Reader, who is a civilian trapped in the middle of a “situation” that involves major superheroes; something big enough that makes Reader’s friends think she might not make it. And well, they assume an experience like that might scare Reader, but she seems happier and relaxed – and wait, is that a hickey?

Word Count: 2850

They think you should be pretty scarred. Liam is the one that alerts the group, the rest; there’s been an incident in one of the main streets and you were stucked/trapped in the middle, with a few other civilians. They assume it’s pretty serious since some of the Titans, Batman, his Robins and Nightwing get involved. Hell, even Red Hood does, and he’s more of an ambivalent figure nowadays. They are sincerely worried about you and don’t rest: they text, they try to call you, but all you send are short answers and sentences don’t sound much like you. At one point you don’t even answer, and after a blast, they think the worse. Gotham can be terrifying like that, everyone knows, they just didn’t think it could happen to someone so close, so dear.

It’s 7pm and you finally write back. You are in your dorms already, exhausted and just a bit scared. But you sound fine when one of them calls you, they wish you goodnight.

Then you change, and they don’t know why you are so happy. Is that one of those defense mechanisms people talk about? They assume that must be it: you are hurting, you are scared, but if they have to be honest, you are hiding it pretty well.

Nobody knows.

They let you go early because you say you are uncomfortable when light goes out, and that’s a truth: you were stuck under debris and hidden with a smaller girl for hours in a tiny place, hoping that they wouldn’t catch you, the alley where you are hiding wouldn’t be affected by the blasts, the shots, and it was claustrophobic. You associate darkness to anxiety now, and even if it’s mild, you know it can get much worse now: specially when you wake up in the night and every light is out, you are engulfed by absolute darkness and-

—Hey gorgeous, you in?—. He swiftly enters your window, knocking over but saving some papers. He takes a look at them—. The Golden Notebook and its consequences in-?

—That’s private, you jerk. Don’t be so nosy, specially when you come this late—. You reprimand him, but he knows it’s not wholeheartedly. He smirks, getting close to you. There’s a hint of panic in your eyes for a second. You are flustered—. Actually, why not? Give it a look. I have to turn it in in two days. I’m actually not sure about the conclusion, it’s a bit chaotic.

You push the paper in his hands almost, and while he smirks, he doesn’t fight it, doesn’t bite you because you are turning red against your table. You feign you are searching for something, ordering things: but actually you are now more nervous about him reading your paper, something so disorganized, embarassing. You left a bit of your soul every time you wrote something, be it academically or not.

—Actually you don’t have to-

—Shh.

You open your mouth, stare at him in disbelief and feign being offended.

—Are you shushing me?

—Sh. I’m on page three.

You bite your nail and move in the room. It’s not very big, but it’s comfortable enough, familiar enough to make you feel safe with the dim lights. While he reads, you get closer to the window and shut it, pull down the binds: you don’t want the darkness getting in, suffocating you. The room has a soft orange look, and the red on him does look good: very professional but badass at the same time. It’s not like Batman, it’s-it’s him, you suppose. The more pages he turns, the more nervous you get; especially when he has to go back a page and you make the move to take it off him, but he escapes you. Clicking your tongue, you give up and sit next to him while he reads, laying down and hugging a pillow as if waiting for the final conclusion. One that gets you more and more nervous.

And why is Red Hood in your bedroom reading your essay, you may ask? Well, he saved you. Well, correction: he saved the girl you were holding onto, passed it to him as a blast came near you and everything exploded. You protected her through everything and when he made the attempt to take you both off the place you were hiding something caught you. And your first instinct had been shoving the girl into his arms and running, distracting whomever had been aiming at you, red laser on your chest. And that was fucking stupid (“crazy” he called it after with a smile), you know it, but you had merely acted on instinct.

And when you thought you were done for, he had literally sweept you off your feet. Your eyes had only opened once you had felt a floor under your feet again: but it had been such an adrenline rush.

—You are crazy. That could have been your moment, kid, you know?

—Not a kid. And sure, but it wasn’t – I mean, uh, thank you—. You had changed your snarky and sarcastic tone once you had fully realized he had saved you. And he noticed, with a smile that made your heart beat faster—. W-Where’s the kid?

—Safe. You should stay here, though; I don’t think you should move in case someone sees you. I’ll come later for you, okay? Don’t text too much, they might caught you. Just-don’t make it known you are here.

You had been comfortable enough for a couple of minutes, but as the shots got stronger, and the combat longer, your nervousness increased whenever there was a long silence. They would make it, right? They were the Titans and the Batfamily. Or however they were called. Thing is that even then, you did not move from your place. Red Hood had ordered you to stay where you were, and you had obediently followed. He knew about these kind of events, he was a fighter and you admired him: he remembered you somehow of Russian heroes, anti-heroes; the realists characters that they created. He seemed to you a little bit like that.

. . .

—… Your writing is really good—. He finally says, turning you in back to the present. Right! The essay. You bite your nail again, arching an eyebrow with a skeptical face—. Hey, I read and this is good. I mean, sure it’s an academic investigation and work but it’s really well written. For me it’s an “A” plus.

You roll your eyes, but smile at him nonetheless. Wasn’t he a cute thing? The copy of the paper has some red corrections, of your own making, but Jason explains how some of them are not necessary and seem to be more picky than what they need to. And he’s actually right; at least in a couple of cases. His voice is serious and he seems to be really interested in what he’s talking about which is something that… Interests you. You smile.

—Soooo, can I finally kiss you or you want me taking a look at some other paper while you deal with your strange embarassment?

—Oh shut up. I’m not embarassed… And if I were, I would be rightfully so.

Why? He had kiss you. Well, you had basically throw yourself on him when he had appeared. And the adrenaline rush, the high of winning, the need to hold onto something real had probably made him kiss you. And shit, every girl has fantasized with kissing Nightwing, maybe even Batman at some point, but he kisses like there’s no tomorrow, like you are all he has, and there’s been no one before that has made you feel that way. You reciprocate: you take his lips, his face when he has taken off half of his mask and you want-you want-want…

—Jason—. He had murmured biting your upper lip, making you whimper, press your knees together. He had loved that. After-winning sex was the best of them all, he knew because of experience.

—What?

—The name’s Jason. Moan it.

And you did. You had done so. You cover your face in your sheets as he lays next to you in the bed. He laughs, probably knowing what you are thinking about. And… To be honest, it has been easy knowing Jason Todd; you knew he wasn’t a celebrity exactly, but he was an urban legend among the poor kids in Gotham, the bad neighborhoods who aspired to be kind of like him. You grew with those same kids, hearing stories of him, of his death! He had opened up easily enough with you, which surprised him (not you, you didn’t know how fucked up he felt he really was, how bad he thought of himself – at least not yet) and you had done it back. In mere weeks, a month, you were closer than even some of your own friends. He knew things you hadn’t told anyone about.

And then the kisses start. The makeout sessions, the occasionally and very special times where you let him sleep with you. Just sleep. You were not stupid and wouldn’t do anything so soon. It seemed too rush.

But that doesn’t stop Jason from giving you hickeys. Biting into your skin seems like his new hobby whenever he is around, which is pretty much always now: you skip some classes (not always, just some mornings, some evenings so that he can stay longer); you cancel hangouts with your friends (you play with Jason and laugh way more with him you notice) from time to time and even reject dates. It’s not like you are falling for him but… You pretty much are.

He reads. He reads! He can quote Shakespeare and Wordsworth (because the first one is too overrated and he needs some more tricks in his sleeve); he snoozes off everywhere in your room, and learn pretty quick that whenever. Yes, he can be up in action for long periods of time, but stakeouts don’t seem to be his thing. On a rough night, he hasn’t sleep in twenty-four hours, he naps on your shoulder when you are waiting for your fries. And then again he does in the bus. You laugh at him just like he does at you once he learns that you pretty much do the same in classes and in your own room: he has recorded you snoozing off and almost falling off your own chair. And fuck that was embarassing, but it made you laugh for at least twenty solid minutes.

So then your friends notice. Liam catches on the first, being as close as he was with you; but apparently not anymore. You’ve been blowing him off a couple of times, and something in your room takes much more time than socializing: what is it? A boyfriend, a hookup you can’t stop doing it with? He’s not jealous, but he thought you two might have been a thing in the future. You were at least in the past, had kissed for New Years, but now… Now you are playing pool with your group of friends, and a hickey is peeking out of the border of your shirt.

It’s white, and he wonders how can you be so casual with those things: you want to show off you’ve been getting some? Your lips are slightly puffy, they have been bitten; your neck seems to be covered in hickeys, but the scarf that you are wearing (saying Gotham was getting colder and colder) prevents the rest from wondering, covers them up pretty quickly… The thing that really irks him is when you are bending in the table, aiming at the white ball, and your shirt riles up: there’s some pretty dark marks on your hips, and it’s impossible to not know.

Specially now, when everyone is getting the signs: you are much happier, a bit absent at times, but much more socializing in class, open to new things; talking with guys doesn’t bother you as much (you weren’t shy, but they intimidated you at times) and you have even joined the club you’ve always longed to be in, and of course you got in. Who wouldn’t want you?

. . .

Jason is good for you. You get to that conclusion when he’s lazily leaving pecks in your cheeks and forehead from time to time. It’s Sunday, and he has arrived two hours ago: you hug him like that will make him stay, even if you know you have things to do, and he will probably go again in the night. But it’s alright.

For now, at least, it is.

—Sorry—. You mutter when your phone goes off, full sound on. You take it, give your back to him where he’s leaving small kisses in your neck. You have to resist a happy sigh, and make him know with a caress on his hand you guide onto your hip. He likes it—. Yeah, hey. Oh. Fuck, sure, uhm-

You get up, and Jason knows something’s wrong because her heart rate slightly picks up and he seems to enter in a bit of a panic. It’s not like when you wake up in the middle of the night (few things can apparently scare you, but complete darkness terrifies you), but something has clearly disturbed you. He doesn’t want to pry though; it’s not considerate, and he has tried to be so these months with you. He resisted the urge to dig into your life.

—Okay. Yeah. I’ll ask… Him. Yeah, it’s a him, you idiot. Bye, yes—. You sigh, turning off your prhone so that you don’t get more calls like that. It’s not like you work or have anything to do on a Sunday. At least not things that are matters of life and death, which is your priority filter today—. So… My friends were wondering who has been keeping me busy all this time. They feel a bit… Left aside. Like I’m distant, which is probably true and my fault, but- —. Jason stops you, caressing the small of your back, which almost makes you purr: you love that, he makes your worries melt. The next thing that comes out of your mouth it’s surprisingly easy for her thanks to that—. They want to meet you. No pressure. We don’t have to put on labels or anything, really. I wouldn’t ask that of you.

You haven’t defined what you have. Both of you aren’t seeing other people, you know that much – but does that make you a monogamous couple? You are not sure. Jason stares at you with a look that can’t be described, won’t be described: a closed book, truly. That makes you nervous, but when you squirm on your bed, he’s quick to answeer, catch on.

—I would like that. It’s just that... I don’t-I don’t know how to “hang out” with people—. He’s vulnerable. Apart from the Titans, his family, he’s never had a close friend to rely on. You are the closest to it. You and Roy, of course. You careess his cheek, fall into bed again with him hugging your waist—. We have a-a good thing. Truly. I don’t want to fuck it up.

It hurts you to see him like that. He thinks of himself as a bomb that will tick off at any moment, that will take you and destroy you at any given time. He worries about it enough that he thinks of your friends as priorities in your life, people he has to impress and that he won’t because he’s not good enough.

You kiss him long and full wholeheartedly. God, you won’t say it, but you feel it almost bursting out of your mouth when he’s hurt like that, has been hurt by so many people.

—You just have to be you. You are charming and intelligent: you are good, Jason. I know-I know what you’ll say about the bad things you’ve done, but you are trying. You have a moral ruling of your own, and you won’t hurt me. Not them. You are a good thing in my lif and-and it will probably be just a game of darts or pool. You can even show off and impress everyone in the fucking bar. I know you like it when you are seen, Jason… And I see you just how you are. I like it, I promise.

He smiles, and you feel hurt heart clench when you see him touched. He won’t cry, won’t allow himself to be like that, but you can feel it when he kisses you, and you cry for him. You are that stupid sometimes, that emotional, and he l- you for it.

(He won’t say it either. Not yet at least).

—Okay. I’ll go.

A/N: I think there could be a part two, but I don’t believe its necessary. Anyways, I can’t stop thinking about Jason Todd – he’s an angry sinnamon roll that must be protected. AND HE LIKES LITERATURE. He’s perfect.

[antis-delete-your-blogs-pls-thx]

Mouse’s Reclist (#2/?)

It’s time for a second reclist! Here’s the first, if you want. This is again in no particular order. Title, author, pairing, and fandom will be listed, as well as if it’s a WIP.

The first few are going to be Snarry, because my reading list recently has basically consisted of entirely Snarry. Why? Because I fucking love Snarry. Sue me.

Angels on the Moon by Writcraft - Harry Potter/Snarry  - The aftermath of the war is almost as difficult as the war itself, Harry is a mess and Severus is a reluctant survivor forced back to Hogwarts to recuperate from his injuries. When a brick-bonding spell goes awry, Harry and Severus are forced to confront hatred, misunderstandings and a new and unexpected intimacy which takes them both by surprise. Notes: This is the classic-style Eighth Year!Fic, which has long been my favourite trope in the HP fandom. It’s an especially loved trope of mine when it comes to Snarry, too, as I am problematic filth, and teacher-student relationships are my jam. It’s also a classic bonding!fic. But the way it handles the tropes is just… *chef’s kiss*

The Man Underneath by maraudersaffair - Harry Potter/Snarry - Severus is a secret Auror and must always be disguised. When Harry Potter becomes his new partner, Severus struggles hiding his true identity and burning attraction. Notes: This is more bottom!Snape than top!Snape, which I know isn’t to everyone’s taste. However, it’s fucking fantastic, and as someone who has a cathartic and self-fulfilling love of “char A is ugly and has a shittonne of self-hatred and yet manages to score super hot char B” (something that I struggle with myself and still worry how I manage to keep my own gorgeous partner over), this is perfect. Not that I even agree with J.K.’s assessment on Sev’s ugliness. I like the “goth filled with churning angst” look. 

a forest, dark and deep by bleedcolor - Harry Potter/Snarry - Once, many years ago (for that is when all great stories begin, many years ago; we never consider we might be in the midst of our own great story) there lived a boy. But wait, you might say, there is nothing special about a boy living, many people do and never amount to much of anything. You would be right, but you would also be wrong, because this story is not about a boy who lived, but The Boy Who Lived, and that is all the difference. Notes: Harry is cursed and must go on an adventure to the Fountain of Youth to find the cure. I cried. I cried a lot. I cried a lot a lot a lot a lot. Happy ending, though! Fairy tale fic. One of the best fics to read if you want magic in the HP universe portrayed more like magic in ancient medieval history tends to be portrayed: mysterious, Eldritch, Occult-like power that requires strange and sometimes dangerous rituals to harness.

you like making me work for it by bottlefamebrewglory - Harry Potter/Snarry - “Before what, Mr. Potter?”//Before Snape had looked at him, drunk and miserable without knowing why, and told him that he could change his future if he wanted. Before he had pulled Snape out of the darkness he’d been determined to drown in. Before the memories. Before he’d looked into Snape’s eyes and watched him die.//Harry didn’t often change his mind, not about people. He’d been accused by Hermione more than once of being stubborn, even prejudiced. And, once upon a time, he’d thought he’d known exactly who Severus Snape was. But that had changed and Harry was no longer that boy anymore, just as Snape could no longer ever be just his hated professor.//“Before,” Harry said again, more finally.//Harry was pretty sure the fact that everyone never thought he’d live past seventeen was at least half the reason becoming an actual adult was so goddamn strange. Severus just wanted to get on with his life now that it was free of controlling old men.//Or, five times Harry flirted with Snape and one time Snape flirted with Harry. Notes: @snapedefender‘s most recent masterpiece. Post-War!fic, one of the best of. Harry worms his way into Severus’ life, as he always does. Also he has a big crush. Their interactions are golden. Everything about this is golden, in fact. It’s just delightful. Read it, please.

How the War Was Won by avioleta - Harry Potter/Snarry - Severus Snape should be dead. Instead, he wakes up after the Battle of Hogwarts to find himself quarantined in a house full of Gryffindors, waiting for Harry bloody Potter to save the world…again. And Severus must be going crazy because he can’t seem to stop thinking about Potter. (Or, where Harry needs a distraction, and Severus doesn’t refuse.) Notes: War Doesn’t End with The Battle of Hogwarts!fic. And it’s by avioleta, a longtime and well-loved Snarry writer. Well-loved for good reason! They know what they’re doing, and it shows. I’ve long loved “Harry and any number of Slytherins are holed up together and must get along” as a trope, and this nails it perfectly. Another fav was in my previous reclist, Hauntingly by ObsidianPen, where Harry is holed up with Draco, Sev, AND Tom! Fun times!

Chasing Ghosts by DictionaryWrites - Harry Potter/Snarry/WIP - “I guess I’m not ready to join the land of the living just yet,” Harry says. “Need a little more time here at Hogwarts, with all the ghosts. You know what I mean?”//In the aftermath of the war, Harry doesn't feel ready to leave the safety of the castle, and to go out into the world at large: he wants to stay. The Room of Requirement - with great reluctance - grants his wish. Notes: Adult!Harry wakes up in the Marauders Era and becomes a teacher, all while he tries to figure out the nature of spacetime. TIME TRAVEL!FIC! That’s in all caps because I love and adore time travel!fic with all my heart. Again, more of a bottom!Snape story. I used to think I preferred top!Snape, but bottom!Snape has come into my heart with a passion as of late and showed me I’m not always going to want Snape to nail Harry into his mattress. This also shows more of Snape’s backstory, with mentor!Lucius and all, which is a fav of mine as well.

OKAY! Enough Snarry, yes, sorry. Moving on!

Love Potion #9 by murderlight - Bleach/GrimmIchi - Gifted with a horrifying box of potion-laced chocolates from Urahara in the hopes he might feed them to somebody, Ichigo thought all the excitement for Valentine’s Day was done with. Then Grimmjow had to get snacky.//A story in which Ichigo is entrusted with the scientifically altered affections of his once-enemy, and might just discover some of his own. Notes: I love the goddamn love potion/love spell trope. This one highlights the dubcon nature of making someone fall in love with you (even on accident) a lot more, but still makes everyone’s feelings feel genuine and real. And of course it ends happily. And there’s no noncon, if that’s not to your taste. Ichigo is a good boy and does not stroke that pussy until that pussy is entirely free from Kisuke’s experimental serums. Yes, I made that pun.

The Edinburgh Problem by snorklepie - Sherlock/Johnlock - “A nice holiday, just a bit more...murdery. ” John said drily.//“Yes! The best kind of holiday!” Sherlock beamed. “So we won’t get bored!”//After he separates from Mary, John returns to Baker Street. Following a request for help from Sherlock's cousin Violet, the detective and his blogger take a trip to Edinburgh. John discovers more about the Holmes family and Sherlock than he bargained for, but tries not to run screaming. Notes: I fell in love with Violet immediately. I am so gay. If you are also attracted to women, you will probably join me in falling in love with Violet. She is amazing, and very Holmes. But a more balanced Holmes. Well, as balanced as a Holmes can be. I love case fic, I love Sherlock Holmes in general because of my adoration for murder mystery (yes, I am a forensics major, thank you for being able to clock me very obviously), and I love deep backstory and family bonding. It’s a long, long ride, but it is undoubtedly worth every single minute.

The Loss of Flesh and Soul by deuxexmycroft - Sherlock/Johnlock/Abandoned WIP - Five years after John Watson puts the murderous Sherlock Holmes behind bars, a vicious copycat killer emerges. A reluctant John is pulled out of retirement to seek the expertise of the only man who can help, a man who has developed an unsettling obsession with John himself.//Crossover with Red Dragon/Silence of the Lambs Notes: It’s Hannigram but Johnlock, what’s not to love? Sherlock’s characterisation in the TV show is already unsettling enough (well, in the beginning, but I like to pretend Sherlock doesn’t exist past S2), so adding in a little Hannibal Lecter is fantastic. Yes, it’s an abandoned WIP. Yes, that hurts like hell. But it’s so, so worth it anyway. Seriously, this is one of the best executions of serial killer!Sherlock I’ve seen in fandom, and given how fucking gigantic the Sherlock fandom is, hopefully you can see how big of a thumbs up that is imho!

Sinking the Land by emungere - Sherlock/Mystrade - Three weeks ago, Mycroft Holmes picked Lestrade up outside New Scotland Yard and made him an offer he'd been unable to refuse, despite his best judgement. Mycroft had sucked his cock, dropped him off at home, and Lestrade hadn't heard a word from him since.//Now, the door of the black car swung open as Lestrade drew level with it. He could just see Mycroft's profile, hawkish nose and shallow chin limned by the orange glow of the streetlight. Notes: Porn WITH plot! That’s the best way to take your porn, imho. One of the best ways I’ve seen the Mystrade relationship developed. It’s just so real. And Lestrade is so head-over-heels, which is my favourite way to take my Lestrade :p.

Clark Kent, of Krypton by TerresDeBrume - DCEU/Superbat - Batman crashes on Krypton a few days before the Turn of the Year celebrations, and Kal-El's life takes a sharp turn to the left, on a path that will, ultimately, lead him to becoming Clark Kent. Notes: Krypton Wasn’t Destroyed!fic is always, always, always my favourite. Sci-fi mystery again, yes. If you saw my first reclist, then you understand that I am always going to fall for a sci-fi mystery fic. This one develops Kryptonian culture beautifully, and equally-as-perfectly encapsulates what “Clark Kent Pretending to Be a Mild-Mannered Reporter, but on Krypton” would actually look like.

Q It Again by writerofprose - Star Trek/QCard - Picard thinks his position, as captain of the Enterprise, plays the largest role in Q's obsession with him. Q would like to take that bet, even if Picard wasn't making one. What say they try it again, from the start? Without the captain nonsense? Notes: A poignant take on Q’s weird fixation with Picard. Not that anyone can blame him. I mean, shit, the man is Jean-luc Picard. Anyone would be fixated on him. Q uses his Q powers to explore Picard in multiple alternate universes, and erases his own memories in order to come in unbiased. Picard gets to keep his original memories, and those of the AU. Does Q still like Picard as much when he’s not at the helm of the Enterprise?

American Outlaws by manic_intent - Red Dead Redemption/Morston - “Bounty’s for one ‘Jim Milton’,” Sadie said, as she got close to the man under the oak tree. “Wanted for murder, robbery, and unnatural acts.”//“Unnatural what?”///“Don’t got details on here.” Sadie passed the folded up poster to her hunting partner. “You all right?”//Arthur Morgan didn’t answer her as he smoothed open the poster. He was aggressively smoking a cigarette, his second, judging from the stub on the grass. Notes: I loved RDR and RDR2 so much that I wrote my own fic in the fandom, despite knowing jackshit about late 1800’s America. It was only a ficlet, in order to hide how little I remember from my contemporary history classes, but much more talented people than me took on the burden of whole-ass novels. Here’s everyone’s fav BNF manic’s take on a fix-it Morston, pre-RDR1 but post-RDR2. It’s excellent. Who doesn’t enjoy forbidden love historical romance? Especially with a delicious helping of age gap. If you’d like Vandermorgan or even Vandermorston, check out more of manic’s stuff, and also kriegersan, who is another long-time fav of mine. 

Every Deckerstar fic by wollfgang. But especially a softer beginning, an amnesia!fic, and if you saw all of me, a true form!Lucifer!fic. You know, since angels are described as weird Eldritch beings in ancient texts. Both tropes are my favourite. Also that latter one has monsterfucking and we are all monsterfuckers here.

A Modest Proposal by ignaz - House M.D./Hilson - Tritter's case against House still depends on subpoenaed testimony from Wilson. To save House from losing everything, the doctors of PPTH decide on an unusual solution, which in turn leads to unexpected consequences. This is a story about the sacrifices we make that turn out not to be such great sacrifices after all. (Contains spoilers for everything up to and including "Merry Little Christmas.") Notes: Work 355 on the AO3. It’s that OG. And for an OG slash fandom, too. Well, not Star Trek levels of OG, but it’s a fandom based on Sherlock Holmes, and ACD did come before Star Trek! You’ve probably read it. It’s the OG Hilson Pretend Marriage!fic. But I had to rec it because when I get bored I watch House on Amazon Prime (or the thousands of clips they upload to YT nowadays), and I always am struck by HOW GAY HOUSE AND WILSON ARE OH MY GOD. I can never watch it with Mum in the room, though, because she was in the medical field before she retired, and the unrealistic nature of how House characters behave (and some of the medical procedures) make her SOOOOOO peeved. Though doctors, especially surgeons, were apparently huge egotistical dicks at times. Maybe not kill your own patient levels, though.

In A Place Where No One Appeared by Gefionne - Star Wars/Kylux - Following the destruction of Starkiller Base, General Hux is ordered to remove a wounded Kylo Ren to a place where he can recuperate. Knowing nowhere else to house him safely and discreetly, Hux takes Ren to his family’s estate on Arkanis. He anticipates adding this experience to the already long list of abhorrent memories he has of his childhood home, but six weeks in company with Ren turns out to be something quite unlike Hux expected. Notes: The imagery is so fucking vivid, I love it. The entire world of Arkanis is just lit up so beautifully in Gefionne’s words. This takes a little liberty with Hux’s backstory, given there wasn’t too much out at the time, but it’s so fucking good, I’d prefer its canon to the actual one, lmao. 

all that you love will be carried away by coldhope - Star Wars/Kylux - Supreme Leader, the oscillator is failing. The collapse has begun. There is nothing that can be done.//Hux, sent to retrieve Kylo Ren from the dying Starkiller Base, has lost almost everything, and has little patience or tolerance left for anyone or anything--particularly not Snoke's pet pseudo-Sith and his amateur theatrics. But you do the job that is in front of you, to the best of your ability, and you hold on as long as you can. Notes: One of the first Kylux fics, and one of the best. Their relationship is just so real here.

London Calling by SectoBoss - Overwatch/WidowTracer - Recaptured by Overwatch, Widowmaker is sent on a mission to assassinate a high-ranking Talon agent in London. It should be an easy mission – get in, take the shot, and leave. But when Tracer’s your getaway pilot a lot of things can go wrong, and things like 'subtlety' and 'discretion' tend to be the first casualties. Now, lying low after the mission goes awry, the pair of them have to survive in the city until Overwatch can get them home. Notes: Written when OW was in its heyday. And before the fandom was qqqquite as bad as it became. A WidowTracer case!fic, with Amelie as the reluctant good guy, which is always the best trope and I don’t take concrit on this point.

To the Victor, The Spoil by Annakovsky - Hunger Games/Haymitch/Katniss - No berries, no mockingjay, no rebellion. Katniss killed Peeta in the arena, and now she has to live with herself like every other victor. Notes: An old fandom, an older fic, back in the day when nobody complained about fucked up dark!fic. And fucked up dark!fic this is. Rape, age gap, age gap rape, Katniss losing all hope about the future, etc. But damn, it’s good.

The Want of You by MKK - Star Trek/Garashir - Julian Bashir is not quite sure yet about his feelings toward his enigmatic new friend Elim Garak. So when they both show symptoms of a mysterious illness, it seems they'll now have more time apart to ponder the future of the relationship. Their symptoms worsen, however, and to their shock, they discover there's only one way to effectively and inexplicably ease the pain: getting physically closer and closer - and closer. Notes: A forced bonding!fic where Bashir doesn’t actually know Garak all that well. As in, set very early in the canon. Very early. Which is my favourite way to read this beloved trope, because the whole fun of it (imho) is characters who barely have a grasp on each other’s personalities being forced to learn them.

Timeshare by astolat - Harry Potter/Drarry - “It’s not for long,” Hermione said. “By the time we get back to Hogwarts, the Unfettering Brew will be ready.”//“Listen to you!” Ron said. “He’s got to get through a month with the Dursleys and a month at Malfoy Manor. With Draco Malfoy.”//“Yeah, thanks,” Harry said, because he hadn’t just spent the last week contemplating just how much more horrible his summer holidays were about to be than they’d ever been before. Notes: Another forced bonding!fic, this time by AO3’s own founder. I love it. I love it, I love it, I love it. Their interactions here are perfect.

Speaking of Drarry, here’s a Veela!Draco fic I’ve recced before, but I don’t believe was in the original masterpost.

Talk to Me by Saras_Girl - Harry Potter/Drarry - When the usual channels of communication are shut down, the most surprising people can find a way in. A strange little love story. Notes: Harry is temporarily deaf and blind thanks to a misaimed spell. Draco takes care of him, in secret. Identity porn at its best.

Semaphore by DevilDoll - MCU/Stony - "I’m trying to like you, Tony. You’re just making it very hard." Notes: I wanted to rec another OG. One of the first Stony fics in the MCU, and still one of the best. It holds up very, very well and is worth a read if, by some miracle, you haven’t already.

Prisoner’s Dilemma by AvocadoLove - MCU/Stony - After taking the airplane down in the Arctic, Steve wakes to find himself imprisoned as a human test subject. With no idea where in the world he is, his only ally is a fast-talking inventor in the cell next door. Something’s off about Tony that Steve can’t put his finger on, and it’s obvious Tony doesn't fully trust him either. But to escape they may not have a choice… Notes: IDENTITY PORN! And it’s by an author I adore. AvocadoLove has pioneered the MCU MattFoggy fandom, and also donated their efforts and words to Stony. It’s the best. And it’s canon divergence! Which is another favourite trope, and one I can’t ever seem to stop writing myself. I have a lot of appreciation for it.

Speaking of MattFoggy, all of theapplepielifestyle’s works for the pairing are amazing. And all of their works in general.

Belief Space by magicasen - Marvel 616/Stony - The Time Gem appears not when it is wanted, but when it is needed. Steve learns this the hard way.//(Or: an Infinity #6 AU where Thane refuses his birthright and the Avengers are doomed - until the Time Gem shows up within Captain America's grasp.) Notes: A 616!Stony fic, if you’re craving something in the comics rather than the movies. Still with Civil War angst and Stony angry tension, just this time it’s even more painful, because their friendship in the comics!verse was beautiful and their fallout even more devastating.

This time tomorrow (where were we?) by dorcas_gustine - Marvel 616/Stony - Tony goes to see Wanda, and suddenly Steve is alive and there are Skrulls! Or maybe Tony is just going crazy. Nothing happens in this fic, until the very end. Seriously. There's a lot of talking, mostly at inopportune moments, Tony's views on the acceptable gifts to give people are slightly different from everyone else's and he spends more time than would seem necessary being (half-)naked. What else is new? Notes: More 616 for your Stony needs! Tony time travels into a word pre-Secret Invasion and decides to fix things his damn self.

despite the threatening sky and shuddering earth (they remained) by praximeter (Zimario) - MCU/Stucky - “They really didn’t want the mask to come off.” Hill thumbed through the scans, and pulled out a film that she then handed over to Sam, face mostly expressionless but for the flat line of her pursed lips.//Sam accepted the film and held it up to the light, angling so both he and Steve could see it, squinting at the outline of the Winter Soldier’s skull, and the blips of unnatural white that showed up, God, in his brain, not to mention about half his teeth, plus the mask, with its thin protrusions—//“Those are pins,” Steve realized. He looked over at Hill. “The mask—it’s nailed to his face.”//Hill’s face was as unmoved as ever. “Like I said. They really didn’t want it coming off.” Notes: TWS Identity Porn!AU. Gore, given that the Winter Soldier’s mask is literally stuck to his face. But it’s excellent.

Simple by Osidiano - MCU/Stucky - Written for the capkink meme; "To the Winter Soldier, there are basically three kinds of people in the world: superiors, mission support, and targets. He doesn't have the context to understand things like friendship. So what he sees in the Smithsonian exhibit and what little he remembers or feels about his past, he interprets in that light. He thinks that Steve must have been his handler during World War II. That the reason he couldn't kill Steve and the reason he was smiling in the museum photos was because Steve was a good superior who treated him well (or at least didn't hurt him like Pierce and Rumlow, which to him might be the best he can imagine).//Thinking he understands the situation, he decides to report to Steve. Cue misunderstandings, confusion, and heartache for both of them." Notes: Bucky taking a while to snap out of TWS mode is one of my favourite tropes. This fic executes it perfectly.

Bridge Over Troubled Water by soniclipstick (veriscence) - MCU/Stuckony/Phlint - Ultron is destroyed, the Avengers are in disarray, and the Winter Soldier is still in the wind. Steve knows that he has to fix the ever-growing ocean of distrust between Tony and himself, so he takes a leap of faith and tasks Tony with the most important thing: finding Bucky Barnes. But it takes a pair of sexy but stolen hand warmers, several robots, Hawkeye and countless selfies before Steve realises the immensity of what he's set into motion. Notes: I would die for Stuckony as a ship. It’s one of my favourites to read and to write, and this fic here encapsulates it quite frankly in the best way. 

Strange New Worlds by Leletha - Supernatural/Destiel/Sabriel - AU…THE FUTURE: Humanity survives everything, spreads to the stars, and finds it needs to know where it can land. Enter interplanetary explorers Sam and Dean Winchester…and sentient starships Gabriel and Castiel. Then ships and crews start disappearing out in the black and, as usual, all goes straight to hell. Notes: I corresponded with Le’letha when they originally wrote this fic, and my love for it has only grown in the years since. Sci-fi mystery, yes. Dude, Castiel is a sentient spaceship. That itself is premise enough.

In His Image by Anonymous - Supernatural/Sabriel - Kali can breathe life back into a corpse, but what exactly is Gabriel now? Gabriel flits around various centuries trying to work that out, Dean has another powered-down angel and a little brother to look out for, Castiel has forgotten how to trust, and someone keeps sending Sam annoying little notes on his laptop. Oh, and Bobby would like to remind you all that there’s an Apocalypse still going on. Covers season 5 from Gabriel’s death to the finale. Notes: My favourite Sabriel fic. God only knows why the author abandoned it. I have their original name, but it doesn’t feel right to reveal it when they made the conscious choice to anonymise. Let me just say that they were a favourite of mine.

If You Were the Last Woman on Earth by Vali - Doctor Who/Thoschei (Twissy) - Just because your best enemy accidentally destroyed planet Earth is no reason to refuse her hospitality. Written for the Only One Bed fanfic challenge. Notes: That last note doesn’t even begin to cover how wonderful this fic is. Tropes are irrelevant, this captures them perfectly. Still one of my fav ever Thoschei fics. Now just get me one where The Master calls our titular hero Theta Cubed Sigma Ex Squared Lungbarrow, please.

A Wealth of Sorrows by evelynwaaaaah - Dragon Age/Solavellan - Things are getting back to normal in Skyhold now that Corypheus is gone. Until the Inquisitor collapses in mid-conversation.  Notes: Solavellan is still a ship I would die for. This fic will make you ship it, if the game didn’t already. And this is coming from someone who romanced Cullen on my first playthrough.

Reclamation by copperbadge - Harry Potter/Background Jily and Wolfstar - In an alternate universe, one man still struggles with a moral decision made many years before. Notes: What if Tom Marvolo Riddle wasn’t quite the same maniac of the canon!verse and was accepted to the position of DADA professor? By the esteemed copperbadge.

Truth and Illusion by penny_dreadful - Mahou Shoujo Madoka Magica/MadoHomu/KyoSaya - “I’ve, um, been dreaming.” She closes her eyes because it’s easier to ignore Mami and Homura’s stares. “In, in my dream I’m still in bed, but I-I’m not alone, Sayaka’s next to me but she’s not breathing, she’s—”//She’s pale and cold and pretty in the same way the stained glass windows of Kyoko’s father’s church are pretty and she’s lying so still she can’t be anything but dead. But in her dream Kyoko still curls around her, soul gem in hand, keeping her warm, keeping her safe—//“—she’s dead, I didn’t even know her that well and she’s dead and in my dream I’m so, I’m scared that there’s nothing I can do.” She opens her eyes. “But there really is nothing I can do. She’s already gone, and we left her there.” She stares hard at her hands. “We weren’t really even friends.” Notes: Not really a fix-it for MadoHomu, but certainly one for SayaKyo. Homura does more spacetime bullshit. Kyouko remembers.

~~~

I think that should cover it for now! That took me ageeeees, and I have games to go waste my life on and fics to write now lmao. Let me know if you want a third installment!

[tragiceyes]

Recovery

I came across this song by AJR, and it made me think of Jason, so I wrote this lil’ fic. Give it a listen! 

Lyrics are interspersed to break up the scenes - sorry this is unedited and sloppy, I’ll clean it up before posting to AO3.

This is a little different from my usual take on Jason. Hope you enjoy it anyway!

I've been so good, I've been helpful and friendly

I've been so good, why am I feeling empty?

I've been so good, I've been so good this year

100mg of Seroquel a day. Because what was the point of cashing in on his little portion of Gotham’s lucrative drug trade if Jason couldn’t buy brand-name?

It made Jason’s stomach hurt, if he didn’t take it with food. So he took it with food. 

I've been so good, but it's still getting harder

I've been so good, where the hell is the karma?

I've been so good, I've been so good this year

A hefty dose of Lithium. 1200mg had made Jason feel like the walking dead, so he’d gotten it reduced to 900mg. He took it first thing in the morning, with a glass of orange juice. 

And he was on the level all day long.

Why, are you asking me why?

My days and nights are filled with disappointment

Fine, oh no, everything's fine

I'm not sure why I booked today's appointment

Jason never heard him coming, but still somehow knew he was there.

Batman.

“I couldn’t help but notice you’ve gone non-lethal.”

He nodded.

“Any particular reason for this change?”

Jason sighed, too tired to tell him anything but the truth, “I’m trying to be better.”

What, am I normal or not?

Am I crazier than other patients?

Right, I've done everything right

So where's the karma doc, I've lost my patience

“So, this person you’ve been talking about…what did you say his name was?” Dr. Connor reviewed her notes.

“Rick.” Jason mumbled.

“Rick. Were you planning on asking him out?”

Jason stared at the ceiling. The first day he’d come into this office, he’d sat stiffly on the sofa and glared at Dr. Connor the entire time, as if he hadn’t made the choice to be there. To her credit, she hadn’t been put off by his rudeness. She’d let him sit, talk only to the degree to which he was comfortable.

And now here he was, lying flat on his back, staring at the ceiling, glowing in the ambient, calming soft lighting.

“Why would I do that, Doc?” Jason replied listlessly. 

Dr. Connor crossed her legs, “Well, you certainly talk about him a lot. And I think he’d be charmed by the way you wax poetic about him.”

Jason snorted in amusement. He marveled at how far he’d come. All the furniture was still in one piece, and he hadn’t stormed out, red-faced and enraged. 

“Actually, knowing him, he’s probably heard it all before. He’s always had a long line of suitors willing to wax poetic, paint portraits, slay dragons…”

She chuckled good-naturedly, “Nothing ventured, nothing gained, Jason. For all you know, he waxes poetic about you.”

Jason highly doubted that. “I already asked him out, Doc…and he shot me down cold.” He blushed a little in shame. It didn’t matter how many sessions he had with Dr. Connors, rejection was never fun to relive. “He doesn’t want anything to do with me.”

“When did this happen?”

“A while ago, way back before…all of this,” Jason waved casually around the therapist’s office, the photographs of beaches, the soft-colored painted walls, the stress toys he’d broken all too many times. “Not that I blame him for telling me where to shove it. I kind of, well…I didn’t handle it well when he said ‘no.’”

He looked up at her. Her pen was poised on her notepad. She gave him an encouraging smile.

He let out a sigh.

Red Hood and Nightwing had teamed up for at least six missions at the point that Jason had decided it was time to shoot his shot. The Lazarus Pit had taken pretty much everything from him, everything except the long-buried crush he’d harbored for his predecessor since the ill-fated Robin years. 

But Jason wasn’t Robin anymore, and he could tell there was something between the two of them. Something in the way Dick smiled at him made Jason want to devour him, and see what that smile tasted like. Something in the way Dick swung through the night made Jason want to tackle him onto a rooftop, pin him down, and not let him get away. Being around Dick made Jason felt like a dog chasing cars. Only he was pretty sure he’d know what to do once he caught this one. 

And he was planning on catching him. Jason showed up to Dick’s apartment unannounced, and swaggered his way inside when Dick opened the door to him, a confused look on his handsome face. 

“Jason…what are you- I mean, what brings you here?”

“Came looking for you, Dickie-bird.” Jason replied with a smirk, not looking at him.

Dick looked like he didn’t really know what to say to that. He moved to walk past Jason, but Jason’s arm shot out to block his way.

“Stop playing hard-to-get, Dickie. It doesn’t suit you.”

“I don’t know what you mean.” Dick replied easily, but Jason caught the way he bit his lip nervously.

“I mean you…and me.”

“Jason-“

“Don’t try and deny it.” He was fully boxing in Dick now, his arms on both sides.

Dick squirmed uncomfortably, “Jay…”

“Come get dinner with me,” Jason continued recklessly, “or, if you want, we can skip straight to dessert…”

Jason didn’t really remember what happened next, but he knew it was some embarrassing combination of himself leaning in to kiss Dick, Dick rebuffing him, and then Dick gently explaining his reasoning.

But Jason hadn’t heard anything past the rejection, and the rejection was blistering and hurtful and humiliating. 

And so, as Jason was known to do, he flew off the handle.

“So you were just flirting with me for shits and giggles, I guess?! I should have know you were like that with everyone. Fucking slut!”

Dick looked at him in shock, “Okay, you need to leave now.”

“Fuck you!”

Jason swung a fist at him, but Dick ducked beneath his arm and used his momentum to grab Jason and pin him against the wall, arm behind his back. Jason let out a curse in anger, and swung violently enough to knock a glass jar off a nearby table. Dick’s other hand quickly gripped the back of his shirt and kept his face pushed against the wall.

“JASON. You need to listen to me right now.” Dick’s voice was angry and commanding and Jason hated him.

Under normal circumstances, Jason would have forced his way out of the grip, even if it meant breaking his own arm in the process, just to get back on the offensive and attack Dick with everything he had. But this time, something gave him pause.

“You don’t get to barge into my apartment and get aggressive with me. You don’t get to throw a fist a me when I reject you. You need to learn how to listen before reacting. Did you even hear what I fucking said, Jason? You stubborn asshole!”

Jason didn’t respond, but Dick wasn’t waiting for him.

“Your anger is out of control. You know what you need to do to get right. You’re going to leave my apartment now, and you are not coming back here until you do what you need to do.”

How someone could manage to be both cryptic and totally condescending was beyond Jason. Not that he could say as much in his current position.

Dick tightened his grip slightly before loosening it, “Don’t try and hit me again, Jason. I’ve been doing this longer than you have.”

But Jason wasn’t planning on it - he knew when he’d been bested. And he obediently walked out the door, red-faced and shamed.

“You know, it’s not so easy, Dick!” Jason cried hoarsely, “It’s really...it’s really fucking hard!”

Dick looked back at him coolly, “I know.”

And he closed the door.

Even as he recounted the story to the one person he knew wouldn’t judge him, Jason couldn’t help but feel a bit of a lump in his throat. He’d really screwed up that one. 

“Tell me what you’re feeling right now.” Dr. Connors encouraged him.

“I can’t believe I did that.” Jason said, and to his horror, he felt his eyes get damp, “I can’t believe I threw shit and tried to hurt him for not wanting to date me. It’s fucking embarrassing to be such a shitty person all the time.”

“You’re not a shitty person, Jason,” She cut in, “Yes, you lost control in the moment. But you’ve been trying to battle these moods and symptoms on your own your entire life. Do you have any idea how hard that is? It’s not something everyone can do, and it certainly isn’t something most people can understand. 

You have an illness, Jason, and you’re working hard to get better. If you were in this same situation again today, I have no doubt you’d be able to recognize the signs of an episode, and prepare accordingly. Either by tempering your anger, or removing yourself from the situation. Give yourself some credit.”

“But it doesn’t matter,” Jason said listlessly, “yes, I’m a lot better now. The meds and the therapy have been helping. I’m more level-headed and stable than I’ve every been before in my life. But it doesn’t matter, because I can’t take back what I did, and I blew my shot with him. He doesn’t want me around, and I don’t blame him.”

“Maybe he’ll forgive you. Have you tried to apologize?”

Jason shook his head. He couldn’t face Dick.

She didn’t let him off, “You should go to him and apologize. With sincerity. Mental illness can be an explanation for poor behavior, but it’s never an excuse. And since it sounds like he’s the one who convinced you to seek treatment in the first place…”

Dick’s words in his mind like a plea or a prayer.

You know what you need to do to get right.

He’d been right.

I've been so good, I've been working my ass off

I've been so good, still, I'm lonely and stressed out

I've been so good, I've been so good this year

What kind of idiot was Jason anyway? He’d been rejected once, twice, it might as well have been a thousand times. 

Yet here he stood once again, right outside Dick’s door. This time he knocked.

Dick answered. Jason was staring at the floor.

“Jason.”

You say that I'm better, why don't I feel better?

The universe works in mysterious ways

But I'm starting to think it ain't working for me

He forced himself to meet Dick’s gaze.

“I’m sorry, Dick. I’m really sorry for the way I treated you. You didn’t deserve it, and I want you to know that I appreciate you trying to help me and I am trying to get better. I’m trying to be better.”

He swallowed, unsure of how to continue, “I-“

“It’s okay, Jason.” Dick replied simply, “I forgive you.”

Jason paused, feeling slightly wrong-footed.

“You seem calmer on patrol, and off it too. You’re no longer shooting to kill, rarely shooting to maim. I know you’re putting in a lot of effort, and I’m proud of you, Jason.”

“Oh. Um, well…good.” He said awkwardly, “Thanks.” 

He’d done what he came to do. He turned to walk away.

“You came all this way,” Dick called breezily, “wasn’t there something you wanted to ask?”

Jason stared back at him, dumbfounded. A little part of his brain lit up with a memory of the night Dick had rejected him. 

Dick had rejected him. But he’d said, “I can’t be with you, Jason. I want to, but I won’t, not before you see someone. You’ve been through a lot of shit, and you’re dealing with a lot of anger. I think you need to work on that before you enter a relationship with anyone.”

But Jason hadn’t heard any of it, not at the time. Rather, he hadn’t been listening.

“Well, now that you mention it…” Jason was blushing again. But this time he was smiling, too.

He could do this.

“…you free tonight?”

Doctor, should I be good?

Should I be good this year?

Dick smiled back.

[onewfantaesy]

Ooooohhhh..... I used to picture Catwoman as having a mundane job like being a boring high school doctor/nurse. Where she usually only have to deal with kids pretending to be sick and such... With Taemin barging into the infirmary going "does the school know they're hiring dangerous criminal to be around sick and vulnerable kids?" on his first day of high school... but your last post makes me imagining her having some kind of little pet shop.

In just the third week of sixth grade, Taemin gets sent to the nurse’s office during gym class. One of the bigger boys in his class accidentally tripped him when they were running laps and accidentally rammed his elbow into Taemin’s left eye. It was already bruising and swelling, and the gym teacher told him to go ice it for the rest of the period. Thankfully Taemin had gym last period, so he didn’t even have to change out of his gym clothes when he went to go find the nurse’s office.

The middle and high schools share the same campus though, separate from the elementary school. This was a whole new school nurse than who Taemin was used to. So when he walks inside and sees Hyoyeon, aka Catwoman, sitting behind the desk, he freezes.

“Well hello there,” she basically purrs at him, but when she notices his still-forming black eye, she’s immediately concerned. “What happened? Who did that to you? Come inside, come sit down, I’ll get you some ice.”

He sits down while she gets an ice pack from the freezer. He hadn’t realized she was the school nurse. He sort of just assumed she was a professional thief 24/7.

“Who did this to you?” She asks, holding the ice pack gently to his eye. “How much does it hurt? Do you need some Motrin? Do you have any allergies? I have Tylenol too.”

“M’not allergic to anything,” Taemin mumbles. “Can I have Motrin?”

She gives him a little paper cup with two little orange painkillers and another cup of water from the cooler.

“You haven’t told me who did this,” she says.

“It was an accident,” Taemin mutters. “During gym.”

She sighs, rummages through a filing cabinet, and pulls out a file with Taemin’s name on it. She writes something down, frowns, and then closes his file.

“You can stay here until the bell rings,” she tells him.

“I didn’t know you were a nurse,” Taemin blurts out, hugging his backpack on his lap with one arm and keeping the ice pack on his eye with the other.

Hyoyeon just smirks at him.

“I bet there’s a lot you don’t know about me, Mr. Taemin,” she teases. “So has Minho gotten you a dog yet?”

“No,” Taemin says, pouting.

“So what’s your pain? On a scale of one to ten.”

“Like a six-and-a-half.”

“Well that’s not good,” she says softly, bringing her chair around to sit in front of him. “Can I look at your eye?”

Taemin continues to pout, but he moves the ice pack and lets her examine his eye. She clicks her tongue, but doesn’t say much about it.

“Where did you get hit, exactly? Do you know?”

“Right here,” Taemin says, pointing at a spot slightly below his lower eyelid and next to his nose. “With an elbow.”

She sighs.

“Well it doesn’t look like it hit your actual eye,” she says. “Which is good. But it will still hurt a lot.”

“I know.”

She frowns at that. An eleven year old boy shouldn’t know things like that. Shouldn’t be used to getting hurt like that.

“So how many black eyes has this boy given you in the past?”

“Only three.”

“So it is the same boy?”

Taemin clamps his lips shut and frowns at her. He puts his ice pack back on his eye and looks away from her.

“If someone is bullying you, and intentionally hurting you, you need to tell someone,” she says in a gentle tone.

“It’s fine,” he whispers.

“It doesn’t look fine.”

He lets out a huff of a sigh and curls up on the chair. There’s still thirty more minutes before the school day is over. He can only avoid her questions for so long.

“Can you call Meen-o?” Taemin whispers. “I don’t feel good.”

“There’s only thirty minutes left of school,” she says. “I think you’ll make it to the dismissal bell.”

He curls up tighter on the chair and hides half his face in it, the other half behind the ice pack.

“Would you like to go collect your books from your locker?” She asks. “I’ll give you a pass, and you can come right back here so you can leave as soon as the bell rings.”

“Yes, please,” he whispers.

He takes longer than necessary to get his books from his locker. By the time he’s back in the nurse’s office, there’s only ten minutes left before school is over. Hyoyeon doesn’t look like she’ll lay off any.

“So what’s this other boy’s name?”

“Don’t you have nurse-ly things to be doing?”

“This is exactly the kind of nurse-ly thing I have to do.”

He doesn’t budge. He only keeps the ice pack to his eye. It’s a full ten minutes of Taemin staying quiet and not moving a single muscle. When the bell rings, he pops up and puts the ice pack on her desk.

“Thank you gotta go bye!”

“Hey, wait just a minute!” She says, and he stops in his tracks just before the entryway to the door. She walks over and hands him a slip of paper. “Give that to Minho. It’s to let him know I gave you medication.”

He frowns at her again, but he snatches the paper and power walks to the pickup area. As soon as he sees Minho’s car, he jumps inside and asks him to please hurry so they can go home.

“What happened to your eye?”

“Gym class,” Taemin mumbles. “Here’s a note.”

Minho sighs, takes the slip of paper, and drives home. The moment they’re home, Taemin runs up to his bedroom to do his homework on his bed and avoid Minho at all costs.

It’s Wednesday night. Taemin doesn’t patrol on Wednesday nights. Batman and Catwoman meet on a rooftop, neither of them looking pleased.

“How’s birdie’s eye?”

“It will be okay,” Minho says, his tone tense.

“You know who did it?” She asks. “He wouldn’t tell me.”

“I know exactly who did it,” he says. “I’m not happy.”

“Neither am I,” she says. “Tell me who it is tomorrow?”

She goes over to him, holds on around his neck, and drags her fingers over his chest. He only nods.

“Good,” she hisses. “Now get him a puppy or something. I would prefer you got him a kitten, but he seems set on a dog.”

Minho sighs. It always comes back to getting Taemin a puppy. They just don’t have time for a puppy right now.

[kitkat1003]

Transcendental Meeting

They'd asked to see, to come in his head and meet this weird, convoluted time traveler that was Emmet and also not Emmet. Emmet wasn't exactly thrilled, and neither was Rex, but it wasn't too much to ask. After all, Emmet had had peoppe in his head before, and he can't imagine it would be difficult to have them in his head again.

Lucy headed the ritual this time, and Emmet tried to ignore the tight pull from both his and Rex's metaphorical hearts as he remembered that Vitruvius was so terribly, awfully gone. Instead, he focused on clearing his head, shutting his eyes.

When he, Lucy, Batman, Unikitty, Benny, and Metalbeard appeared inside his own mind, he could tell Lucy was surprised by the change. It is definitely fuller now, a multitude and dark blues and bright oranges filtering through the constantly shifting space, as well as the numbers and their corresponding parts that float around aimlessly.

In the center of it all, a large ship, identical to the one Rex had had before he...no longer had his own body. They can hear the sound of video games and someone shouting, and Emmet smiles with a sort of fond familiarity that has Lucy grinning.

He leads them to the door, hidden behind a plethora of sensors, and opens it, gesturing for them to follow him inside.

Instead of the makings of a spaceship, the interior is large house mixed with an apocalypse survival bunker. There is a gun rack and a homely kitchen, side by side, an odd juxtaposition of Emmet's and Rex's tastes that seems to work.

Rex is sitting in front of the largest tv screen they've ever seen, and Emmet stops them a few feet away from the chair, walking over by himself and tapping Rex on the shoulder.

Rex inclines his head-Emmet is the. only one allowed to sneak up on him like that and not get punched

"What, they finally show up to see the glory that is me?" Immediately, all save for Lucy are taken aback by the voice, bravado and ego and cockiness all turned up to eleven and shoved into a single sound. Lucy just smiles and shakes her head as Emmet nods, and Rex gets up, pausing the game and taking the few steps and one turn to face the people he knows so well, yet not at all.

Their appearance takes his breath away.

He doesn't front when Emmet is with his friends. As is, Rex secludes himself to being seen by GCBC and Lucy only, because he's too good-too nervous-to be seen by anyone else.

Rex's appearance is a shock to the four as well, eyebrows shot to the ceiling. Of all things that would have been thought to be a part of Emmet, Rex is not one of them.

"The heck happened to you?" Batman's gruff, blunt voice cuts through the silence, and Rex twitches, ever so slightly. The mindscape darkens for a moment, and Emmet and Lucy make the same face-the "Oh my God Batman don't say that Why did you say that" face.

"I grew up-yknow, trained some raptors, created a time machine spaceship, got tough, typical easy stuff. You wouldn't get it," His words are barbed wire behind the self aggrandizing, and Emmet's eyes dart back to Batman, pleading with him not to engage.

But the Dark Knight's ego won't be challenged.

"Oh yeah, it's not as if I pioneered that-besides, I doubt any part of Emmet is grown up," Emmet flinches, and Unikitty jabs Batman with her horn. "Hey!" Batman shouts, rubbing the spot where he was hit. Unikitty glares at him.

"I suggest ye back down. Wouldn't want the wee lass to go into a rage on ye, would ye?" Metalbeard speaks up, and Batman crosses his arms and relents.

"Whatever," he mutters.

Rex face is locked in a smile-one that never means anything good. He's either plotting revenge or holding back tears, and at this point Emmet isn't sure what's worse.

"How'd you meet Emmet, Rex? Emmet said you two used to be two separate people?" Benny asks to try and lighten the mood, and Rex crosses his arms.

"Saved his life," he grins, and Emmet rolls his eyes.

"Yeah, and then made me mess up a whole lot," he replies, eyes silently asking the question if he's allowed to tell. Rex shrugs, and Emmet takes that as a concession, summoning some couches for everyone to sit on.

He regales the tale-how he arrived at the wedding, what Rex did to manipulate him, etc. He can see their like of Rex wane as he continues, but Rex just leans back in the armchair he made and grins, arms behind his head.

When Emmet is finished, Unikitty jumps up, glaring at Rex. Her fur is slowly changing from pink to red.

"You ruined everything! Queen Watevra Wa'Nabi could've been killed because of you!" She shouts, and Rex shrugs sort of helplessly.

"Eh, I could've fixed it. It worked out fine, because I'm so great," he pats Emmets shoulder and winks, but no one is amused. Rex just shrugs again.

"You could've gotten us all put in storage!" Benny jumps up with his arms crossed. Lucy and Emmet hold their hands up, mouths opening to placate.

"What were ye thinking!" Metalbeard's cry suts them off, and Rex's hand crushes the can of soda in it.

The crunch makes the room lapse into silence.

"What was I thinking?" And Rex's voice is ice, sending a chill down everyone's spine. "What. Was I thinking?"

The roar shocks everyone, and the crushing stomp that accompanies it shatters the floor of the ship house, chairs dissolving with the shockwave Rex's foot creates. Rex's voice is loud, pained, and all that braggadocio lost as something broken and vulnerable and Emmet in a way that makes Lucy's heart ache.

The four, plus Lucy, all wince as they see the broken man Rex is, the trembling fists, the shadow of a man that used to be Emmet.

How long, they have to wonder. How long did Rex lay under in the dryar system alone, before he snapped? How long did he wait for them, still believing they'd come to save him, before his hope broke?

How must it have felt for his only friends, which he had given his fragile, naive, sweet, innocent, kind heart to, to have abandoned him, snapped his trust in half, and forced him to change?

"So...I decided," Rex finally starts up again, taking in a deep breath.

The final resounding scream has the whole ship dissolving, the dark blue colors in the landscape surrounding them smothering the bright orange as Rex continues to shake and shudder and take in heaving breaths.

Eventually, Eemet steps forward, placing a hand on Rex's shoulder, and when Rex turns to face him Emmet pulls him into a hug.

Rex shakes and grips Emmet like a lifeline, and Emmet nods at the five with something old and sad in his eyes, and suddenly they're back in Emmet and Lucy's home.

Emmet smiles sadly at them, something akin to disappointment in his eyes that burns into their souls when he catches their gaze.

"I'm gonna head to my room to talk to Rex. See ya later, alligator," with that, he turns on his heel and walks away.

Lucy stares at the four dejected master builders and sighs.

The four head home in silence.

----------

In the mind space, the pieces of the home they'd thought of together is already starting to rebuild, and Emmet finds Rex sitting and watching it coalesce.

"Sorry," he says. "I should've told them what jad happened before," he sits down next to Rex, and Rex looks so tired.

"It's okay-I needed to say that anyway, I think. Catharsis or whatever," Rex mutters, and Emmet's heart soars.

"You've been reading the therapy books I make in here!" He exclaims excitedly, and Rex chuckles.

"I got bored, what can I say," he shrugs, though his expression turns more somber. He goes silent, staring off into the distance.

"Rex?" Emmet tries, patting him on the shoulder.

"I don't know why they didn't come back for me," his voice shakes. "I don't-what did I do wrong?"

Emmet hugs Rex tightly, thinking of the empty despair that had clenched around his heart when hope was lost, when he thought he'd be left beneath the dryar system forever. Imagines sitting in that despair for months.

"Nothing. You didn't do anything wrong, okay?" He says, because Rex is him, and has Emmet done anything wrong to deserve that? To warrant that degree of suffering?

He leans his head on Rex's shoulder, and whispers again-you didn't do anything wrong, to Rex and to himself.

Maybe one day at least one of them could believe that was true.

[thegizka]

Moving On (fic)

When Dick moves back to Gotham after the Teen Titans disband, he has difficulty adjusting to working under Batman’s direction.  Luckily he has friends who are willing to listen and help him figure out a solution (at least temporarily).

(I imagined this happening in a timeline where Dick has become Nightwing (since the New Teen Titans have disbanded) but before Jason Todd has become the new Robin.)

Written for Writer’s Month 2019 Day 4:  Road Trip.

Note:  I do not own these characters.

Read it on Ao3.

“It’s just so frustrating!” Dick ranted, stomping across the roof of the Gotham City Concert Hall.  “I think I had more freedom as an unstable twelve-year-old than I do now.  It’s like he needs to keep an eye on me 24/7.  It’s stifling!”

“Maybe he’s just trying to keep you safe,” Donna suggested, sticking a couple of fries in her mouth and pretending her friend’s crisis wasn’t her evening’s entertainment.

“But I don’t need a babysitter anymore.  I’m not a kid!  And I might not have as much experience at this night job, but I’m pretty sure my track record as Robin and with the Titans deserves a higher vote of confidence.”

“I’m sure he knows this.”

“Then why isn’t he letting me work independently anymore?”

“SorryI’mlate!”  A red and yellow blur materialized into Wally West.  He pulled off the mask portion of his suit and took a seat next to Donna.  “I got distracted by a car chase in Detroit.  What am I missing?”

“Batman’s smothering Dick and he’s not happy,” Donna explained, passing him his own extra large order of fries.

“Ah, a classic case of clingy parenting.  Have you told him you need space?”

“I shouldn’t need to tell him,” Dick grumbled.  “I thought all those years working with you guys in the Teen Titans was me telling him I needed space.”

“Maybe, but you moved back home now, which implies you’re going to live on his terms,” Donna mused.  “I mean, Gotham is his territory.  You know how much of a control freak he is.  Of course he’s going to want to tell you exactly what to do.”

“And,” Wally added around a mouthful of fries, “he hasn’t necessarily seen how much you’ve grown and matured while you were away.  Parents have this strange tendency to believe their kids are younger and feebler than they actually are.  He probably still thinks you’re the wild adolescent he took in a few years ago.”

“But I’m not!”

“Well duh.”  Wally rolled his eyes.

“So what am I supposed to do?” Dick growled frustratedly.  He kicked at one of the scraps of trash that seemed obligated to be on every Gotham rooftop.

“Move,” Donna said pointedly.  “Get out of Gotham.  You’ll never get the independence you want here.”

“But this is my home too!  I shouldn’t have to leave just because he’s been here longer.  Gotham’s a big enough city to host several heroes.”

Wally and Donna exchanged skeptical looks.

“Dude, you haven’t been in Gotham more than three weeks straight for the past four years.  Why are you so afraid of moving?”

“I’m not.  I just don’t know that it’s the right time.  I mean, at the very least this clinginginess has shown me how much Batman still needs a sidekick.”

“He’s hopeless,” Wally muttered, crushing his empty fries carton.

“For Zeus’s sake, Dick!  Pick a side,” Donna growled.  “Do you want to be the mature adult ready to strike out on his own or the self-sacrificing son sticking around to encourage his father’s dependency issues?”

“I just-  I haven’t figured it out yet, okay?  You guys might be used to doing things solo, but I prefer being around people who have my back.”

“Is that what this is about?” Donna asked incredulously.  “You think we’ve abandoned you because our team disbanded?”

“That’s cold, dude.  I mean, what do you call this then?  Just a regular old courtesy chat on a dirty rooftop at an unholy hour of the night?”

“No,” Dick sighed.  “That’s not what I meant.  I’m sorry.”

“We know, dude.  Relax.  We’re just giving you a hard time.”  Wally smiled sympathetically.

“Honestly, there are days when I miss the team or our sidekick eras,” Donna admitted, “but just like our civilian lives, there comes a point where we have to make our own decisions as heroes.  We don’t get to stay kids forever.”

Dick turned his back to his friends and gazed out across the Gotham cityscape, a frown on his face.  This place was always so dramatic.  The shadows were darker than they were in other cities, and lights were either a dim and useless yellow or bright enough to blind.  It made him miss the sun and clean air.  He’d liked being at Titans Tower.  There’d been a lot less lurking, and they’d made most of their plans and decisions together as a team.  Could he find that respect and joy in Gotham?

“You know what?” Wally asked suddenly, breaking into his musings.   (Dick refused to believe he’d inherited Bruce’s brooding tendency.)  “Let’s go on a road trip!”

“And how is that supposed to help me sort things out?”

Wally shrugged.

“Maybe it will, maybe it won’t.  But it’ll give you some temporary space from the Bat, and you’ll get to hang out with us for a few weeks.”

“A few weeks?”  Donna looked concerned.

“”It’s a road trip.  Those things aren’t fast,” he chuckled.

“I have a job, though.”

“As a freelance photographer.  Your schedule’s flexible, right?  Plus you can take you camera along and get some cool location shots to fill out your portfolio.”

“And what locations do you have in mind?”

“Anywhere!”  He spread his arms wide.  “The Grand Canyon, the St. Louis Arch, Broadway, whatever!  This might be our last big hurrah together before adulthood and jobs and things.  So?  What do you say?”

The other two exchanged looks.  Dick shrugged.  It wasn’t like he had anything better to do.

“Alright,” Donna agreed, “on a few conditions.”

“Let’s hear them.”

“No night job stuff.  That means no costumes, no cases, and keeping the powers to a minimum.  If we’re going to make this an escape from the crazy, we minimize the crazy we bring with us.”

“Fine by me,” Wally agreed.

“My other condition is Roy comes too.  It wouldn’t feel right to go without him.”

“Cool.  Is that it?  I’ll go ask him right now.”

Before either could stop him, Wally zoomed off the roof heading towards Star City.

“How long do you think it’ll take him to convince Roy?” Dick asked.  His friend shrugged, gathering up their discarded food wrappers and crushing them into a paper bag.

“Not long.  He’s been talking about taking a break for a while.  Assuming he thinks he can survive being stuck with us in a car for a few weeks, he’ll be on board.”

They waited in silence for a while, the sounds of sirens and street traffic the backdrop for their thoughts.  It had been a while since Dick hadn’t been surrounded by noise.  Getting away from it might be nice, or it might be unsettling.  He supposed he’d find out.

Wally returned, skidding to a halt and scattering bits of trash around him.  He had a big grin on his face and was holding another bag of take-out.

“Roy said yes,” he announced.  “Now who wants more fries?”

-----

When Roy opened his front door five days later, he was met with the flash of a camera.

“Donna come on,” he groaned, but there was amusement in his eyes.

“I have a fondness for candids,” she grinned, snapping another for good measure.

“Between your camera and Wally’s choice of music, I might be driven to murder by the end of this.”  He threw a large duffle bag into the back of his truck where several other bags full of camping equipment and luggage were piling up.

“What do you have against Shakira?” Wally demanded, adding a tarp to the pile.

“Nothing, unless she’s on repeat for two and a half hours.”

“But you told me I needed to joke less and be more honest.  Hips don’t lie, Roy.  You can’t get more honest than that.”

Roy just rolled his eyes and turned to Donna.

“Is Dick back yet?”

“Nope, but we did give him a big shopping list.  I’m not sure how he’s going to fit everything on his motorcycle.”

“Want me to run and check on him?” Wally offered.

“No need,” Donna announced, spotting their friend turning onto Roy’s street.  She could see shopping bags filling his limited storage and balanced carefully on his bike.  Glancing at the already full truck, she wondered where they were going to fit it all, though Wally would probably eat half of it before they pulled out of the driveway.

“They didn’t have any good trail mix,” Dick announced, slipping off his helmet, “but there will be plenty of truck stops and Trader Joe’s along the way so I can pick some up later.”

“Thanks man.”  Wally grabbed a few of the bags, but instead of strategically packing them in the truck, he began rifling through them on the hunt for something to eat.

“No cheese puffs,” Roy warned.  “I don’t want orange fingerprints all over my interior.”

“Bugles it is, then.”

An hour later, the truck was packed, Dick’s motorcycle was tucked safely into the garage, and they’d managed to claim their seats with minimal arguing.

“Who’s ready for some music?” Dick asked while Roy eased out onto the road.  Having won the passenger’s seat, he was responsible for navigational support and road tunes.  Hitting play on his phone, the bright horn intro for “Hips Don’t Lie” filtered through the speakers.  Wally bit back a giggle.  Roy just sighed resignedly.

“If the next song is another Shakira, I am pulling over and kicking both of you out.”

“Oh baby when you talk like that, you make a woman go mad,” Dick sang at him in falsetto.  By the end of the song, even Roy was singing along.

[sapphicscholar]

Summary: Kara's first time handing out candy in her new home brings an adorable kid in a Super-suit and his very attractive mother to Kara's door, and they find they might get even more than candy out of their Halloween nights

Full Text:

“Alex, this is important.”

Alex fixed Kara with a stern glare. “It’s Halloween candy that stores think they can charge more for than normal because all the sudden it’s in the shape of a pumpkin and wrapped in orange paper.”

“So you think I should go with the Reese’s pumpkins then?”

“Oh my god, where did you get that from what I just said?” But Kara was already crouching back down to the lower shelves to inspect all the offerings for a fifth time.

“Okay, so I think the Reese’s for sure. And a bag of Snickers.”

“Because they’re your favorite.”

“I’m sure other people like them too…” Still, Kara tossed an extra bag in her basket in case they liked them too much.

“But that means you need to get Twix for me.”

Kara crinkled her nose in disgust—no matter how much she liked candy, she didn’t get how Twix could ever make it to the level of a favorite—but dutifully grabbed a whole bag of them. “Not really worried about anyone else wanting them…”

“More for me, then.” With a little huff, Alex stuck her tongue out at Kara.

“Do you think I should get a non-chocolate alternative? What if someone’s allergic to chocolate? Or oh god, what if there’s a little vegan trick-or-treater?”

“Then they should already have a whole lifetime’s worth of disappointment built up. They’ll deal. Seriously, it’s not that big of a deal.”

“Alex,” Kara huffed, throwing a bag of Starbursts into her basket before standing up and crossing her arms over her chest. “It’s the first time I’m ever getting to hand out candy at my own place! It’s a huge deal!”

“I swear, sometimes I think you gave up the apartment just so that you could be get to live out some 1950s suburban fantasy.” Knocking her shoulder against Kara’s, Alex chuckled and shook her head.

“First of all, you know that Krypto wasn’t allowed in the apartment. Second, it’s a lot easier to, you know”—Kara’s gaze flickered around them, and she lowered her voice—“up, up, and away from my own house. And besides, we aren’t all content holing ourselves up alone in our apartments.”

“Oh shush, I go out sometimes.”

“Really? What are you doing tonight?”

“I’m working.”

“See!”

“Someone had to cover at the DEO!”

“That excuse only works when you didn’t volunteer.”

“Whatever. Vas and I are gonna have a great time. They’re even bringing in a laptop to stream scary movies all night.”

Kara shuddered. She’d never understood the appeal. Staying home and handing out candy to all the adorable little ones in costumes (and okay, yes, she was planning on giving the little Supergirls a few extra handfuls of candy) sounded better in every possible way.

With one last check of her costume in her bedroom mirror, Kara headed downstairs to make sure everything was ready for her trick-or-treaters. Front lights? On. Candy bowl? Filled. Krypto? Walked long enough to be tuckered out. With that, Kara carefully tucked her pink Glinda the Good Witch dress under her and settled into a comfy chair with a book while she waited.

Half an hour later, Kara decided maybe she’d gotten things ready a little too early.

After 45 minutes had passed, Kara started in on the mini Snickers bars.

But once she hit the hour mark, the first knock on the front door came, and Kara sprang up into action, straightening her crown and clutching her wand as she pulled open the door. “Well hello there! What do we have here?”

Surveying the group, Kara grinned at the cluster of Power Rangers—two greens clutching each other’s hands and a slightly taller red one standing behind them and urging them forward with a quiet, “Go on.”

“Trick-or-treat,” they managed in unison.

“What would you like today?” Kara held out her pumpkin, pointing out the different options. Eventually the two little ones both grabbed Reese’s pumpkins, and the older child took a Twix, thanking Kara for the group of them before jogging back down to the sidewalk to catch up.

It continued like that for most of the night, with small groups marching up her front steps. There was one lion who didn’t quite get the Wizard of Oz joke Kara made, though her dad laughed at it, and a few little Supergirls and Supermen, plus one teeny-tiny Batman that left Kara grinning for nearly ten full minutes as she imagined Bruce’s reaction to his diminutive mini-me.

Around 8:30, Kara began putting away her things, the procession of trick-or-treaters having dwindled as the last few stragglers made their way around the neighborhood.

After she’d called it a night and had headed back to the kitchen giving Krypto a snack for being so good with all the visitors, Kara caught the sound of footsteps coming up her front walk. She listened in and heard a woman’s voice explaining, “Now, Carter, these people might have already gone to bed or run out of candy. It’s getting pretty late now.”

“I know, I know,” came the response with a child’s huff. “But look at all the pumpkins! They’re so good.”

Kara beamed to herself, thinking about the afternoon she’d spent carefully carving intricate designs into about a dozen pumpkins that now decorated her front porch. Truthfully, she’d been a little disappointed that no one had said anything about them, and she decided that this kid—Carter—deserved extra candy for the compliments, even if he had no idea she could hear.

A definitive knocking sounded through the front of the house, and Kara hurried forward, grabbing her crown at the last minute before sweeping open the door. “Happy Halloween!” She grinned at the sight that met her: another Superman with a witch’s hand (complete with perfectly manicured green nails) resting on his shoulder. As Kara’s gaze traveled up the black lace of the witch’s dress, her breath caught in her throat as she realized just how beautiful the woman was, even with the costume makeup and silly, pointy hat. “Um, hi.”

“If you’ve already packed up for the night, we can go,” the woman sighed, and Kara realized she’d been quiet for longer than she intended to be.

“No! No, hold on, um, I’ve got candy here—one second.” She rushed into the living room and grabbed the bowl before racing back to the door. “Here you are.” Lowering herself down to her knees, Kara held out the bowl to Carter. “And you know what? Since I don’t think we’re going to get too many more visitors tonight, if your mom says it’s okay, I bet you could take a few extra pieces.”

Carter’s arm wound around his mom’s leg as he backed up a few steps, glancing up at her.

“I think that’d be just fine, so long as you don’t try to eat it all in one go.”

Carter nodded, blonde curls shaking with the movement.

“And maybe you should grab your mom a thing of M&Ms if she has them,” the woman added with a wink.

“Oh shoot! I knew I was forgetting something.” Kara frowned at her basket, cursing her lack of foresight.

The woman merely shrugged, but Kara was holding up a finger. “Wait, I think I have some in my kitchen! Give me just a minute, okay?” She didn’t wait for an answer before darting off, leaving the basket of candy with Carter.

A minute later she emerged, triumphantly clutching a bag of M&Ms she had picked up on a whim after stopping an armed robbery at a grocery store that past weekend. “Knew I had some!”

The woman narrowed her eyes before smiling, seemingly in spite of herself. “Are you always like this, or are you just getting in character?”

Tilting her head to the side, Kara furrowed her brow and asked, “What?”

“The whole Good Witch thing.” She traced a finger up and down through the air, gesturing from the tall crown down to the sparkly heels. “Going out of your way to be helpful, giving my son extra candy, finding M&Ms for me…”

“Oh, um, I don’t know. If I can be helpful, why wouldn’t I be? Besides,” Kara added with a shrug of her shoulders as she smiled down at Carter, lowering herself to the floor once more, “I love the costume.” As she looked closer, she narrowed her eyes. “You’ve got Supergirl’s crest!”

Carter nodded, clutching his mom’s hand but not backing away this time.

“He prefers our local hero, even if the skirt would have been a bit cold.”

“Good taste,” Kara grinned.

“Takes after his mother that way.” Kara cocked her head to the side. “It’d be a bit odd if I still held on to some old sentimental attachment to Superman when I have my own superhero right here in National City, selling papers even if she still won’t call me back about that interview.”

“Oh my god.” Kara’s jaw dropped as she looked back up at the woman in front of her. “You’re Cat Grant!”

“Very good, dear. Though I suppose tonight I’m meant to be your enemy.”

“What?” Kara’s voice cracked slightly, and she prayed she hadn’t done something stupid like leave out her suit or her cape, though maybe she could excuse it as another costume…

“The Wicked Witch…” Cat trailed off, looking at Kara as though she were a bit slow.

“Oh! Oh, yes, yes, of course.” Trying to diffuse the tension, Kara turned her attention back to Carter. “Luckily we’ve got our own Super here to stop any fighting.”

Carter nodded, puffing his chest out just a little as he put the hand not clutching his pumpkin-shaped basket on his hips.

For a moment, the small group stood together in silence before Cat made a small tsking noise with her tongue. “Come along, Carter, we should let the Good Witch get back to her evening. I’m sure she has plans.”

“I don’t!” Kara blurted out, her cheeks warming slightly as Cat’s full attention returned to her. And oh god, this was precisely why J’onn had warned her not to do the interview. But she couldn’t help it. She’d gotten to know about the planet through Cat’s journalism, and she’d admired her (and okay, fine, maybe had a little crush…or a gigantic crush, whatever) for years, and now Cat was standing in Kara’s doorway looking far more attractive than anyone with green nails and a fake mole should, and Kara wasn’t ready to see her leave. “I mean, sorry, you probably do. I was just, uh, I hadn’t eaten dinner yet, and I figured it probably wouldn’t be a great idea to finish this basket of candy and call it a meal.”

“Definitely not a good idea,” Cat concurred, nudging Carter to make sure he’d heard and understood.

“So it’s not like you’re bothering me or anything like that. That’s all.”

They stood in silence for another few interminably long moments before Carter’s small voice chimed in, wavering slightly before finding solid ground: “I like your pumpkins.”

“Yeah?”

Carter nodded enthusiastically, his gaze turning back to the cluster of them closest to the door.

“Thank you! If you want one, you can take it home with you. If your mom says you can, of course,” she hastily added.

Carter looked up at his mom, his eyes wide and imploring. “Well alright, but be sure to say thank you.” As Carter ran off to pick one out, Cat sighed. “If my staff saw me now, caving to puppy eyes without the slightest argument…”

“Maybe it’s your costume that’s the act then.” Kara shrugged, a playful smile tugging up the corners of her mouth.

“Excuse me?”

“I don’t know, I’m just saying, maybe you’re not really the Wicked Witch.”

“Or perhaps spending time with a Good Witch is a good influence.”

“Maybe you should spend more time with me and find out.” The words had slipped out before Kara quite processed them, and she slapped a hand over her mouth at the realization.

“Brazen,” Cat muttered under her breath.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize.” Cat tilted her head to the side, looking Kara up and down. “I like it.”

“Got one!” Carter called out, hefting a pumpkin as big as his head up to show Cat.

“Very nice.” With a second glance, Cat refocused her attention on the pumpkin, taking in the details of the intricate carving. “This is actually…I never thought I’d call a pumpkin beautiful, but this one comes close.”

“Thanks,” Kara mumbled, rubbing her hand over the back of her neck. “I, uh, in my free time I do some art work. Painting, mainly, but some drawing, little bit of sculpting.”

“My, my, quite the Renaissance woman.”

“I don’t know. I mean, it’s just a hobby.”

A loud rumble from Kara’s stomach interrupted Cat’s retort.

“It seems we really are keeping you now, and besides, we need to be getting home to eat some food that isn’t candy too. Carter, say thank you.”

“Thank you,” Carter repeated, his voice a little louder than it had been earlier.

“You’re welcome,” Kara replied with a broad smile. As Cat turned away, Kara called out: “Cat!”

The woman spun slowly, an amused smile on her lips like she wasn’t used to being called after so informally. And, Kara supposed, she probably wasn’t.

“Yes?”

“I just, um, if you wanted to stay for dinner and dessert…I made a few pumpkin pies from all the carving, so I’ve got enough to share.”

“I think Carter’s a bit tired after a full night of knocking on doors.”

“Right, right,” Kara nodded, ducking her head down as she moved back inside.

“But I’ll be on my own for dinner this weekend, so why don’t you call my office tomorrow and ask me about Friday night?”

“Really?”

“Really, Glinda.”

Kara managed to wait until the door was shut before squealing and jumping up and down. It took a few more minutes before she could get her thoughts in order enough to pull out her phone and open her messages with Alex.

Kara: So…remember how you said I wanted that suburban fantasy life?

Alex: What’d you do??

Kara: Oh nothing...

Kara: I just have a date with a drop dead gorgeous single mom on Friday night

Alex: Look at you go!

Kara: Yeah…she’s so cool. And smart. And beautiful.

Kara: And her kid is adorable, Alex.

Alex: I trust you. You don’t have to sell me on it, really.

Kara: Great! Cause her name is Cat Grant. K bye!

Alex: Kara!

Alex: KARA DANVERS PICK UP YOUR PHONE RIGHT NOW!

Kara: You’re at work. We’ll talk later. Love youuuuu! <3